


uneasy coexistence

by n_kei



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Eventual Romance, Factions and Gangs, M/M, Post Bond-Consummation, Slow Burn, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 75,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_kei/pseuds/n_kei
Summary: A policeman, a gang leader, and a piece of invisible red string.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 350
Kudos: 993





	1. prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smokyeyeliner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokyeyeliner/gifts).



> You read that right. Soulmates, triads, factions and gangs, and heavily inspired by Kick It's aesthetics. There will be violence, cussing, and tension. Delicious, delicious tension. Additional tags may change with time.

It is said that when you meet your soulmate, a string that was only visible to you would form on your wrists, binding you together by a set distance. At the beginning, it is close, only two or three paces apart. Then, as trust builds, the distance grows further, at fifteen to twenty paces. Finally, when the bond is fully formed, the 'string' would disappear and you would be able to move freely again.

To complete, honour and celebrate the bond is said to lead a positive, prosperous life.

But it is no simple feat to find your soulmate. You are, after all, seeking one person in over seven billion across the globe.

On the other hand, to naturally break the bond would take time, as you are undoing fate. But there are other ways to sever the connection. In fact, they are people who are between the worlds of the living and the dead, who retain a mortal coil for the purpose of existing, searching, learning, and altering. They have many names. Doyen. Tirthankara. Disruptor. Sine qua non. But they all mean the same: the change.

This is a story of two individuals whose fates are irrevocably intertwined, but whose morals and values stand on opposite sides of the spectrum. They have one choice. What will it be?


	2. 01

¹⁹⁹⁷   
Loyalty, Jaehyun thinks, is a misunderstood thing.

Loyalty assumes unwavering and lasting trust. Loyalty challenges the human condition to be selfish, striving for something not everyone has, feeding the ego. Loyalty was what they said you must have before you join. Your brothers would have your back, and you theirs. Loyalty was what they emphasized on, because the greater the loyalty, the less likely to see betrayal until it lands right under your nose.

Jaehyun wore scars across his skin of the times loyalty backfires. A cigarette burn at seven. A broken knee at thirteen. Fractured ribs and arms and clavicles at fourteen. Betrayed by his brothers for miraculously misplacing drugs, even though he had the cleanest record.

Well, it was nothing that didn’t grow thick scar tissues over. He survived. He kept walking.

After that, he understood. Loyalty was bullshit. There were only two constants in the world: change and passing of time. Loyalty, by inference, changes with the passing of time.

So Jaehyun gave up loyalty, leaving the Gangnam faction he ran for.

He moved to the edge of Daejeon, found small suppliers who kept their word, and flipped whatever illegal material he could get his hands on. He operated alone, and learned to trust his intuition. It was not always right, but the odds improved over time. He trained his senses to take in everything; from body language, to the unexpected silence of a busy restaurant, to smelling blood masked by the scent of sewage and damp alleyway. His palms would feel the grains of the folding chair and considered it a handy weapon. His brain would give approximate calculations that if the metal chopsticks were thrown with accuracy and strength, would be dangerous.

But it was not enough. South Korea was weak in combat. Taekwondo was a joke. He needed more.

So he travelled. In Bangkok he learned to bounce on the balls of his feet, throw quick jabs that had less impact until he landed three in the same spot, breaking bone. In Mandalay, he learned to fight dirty, for survival. He watched a seasoned fighter at the age of twenty-one dig a finger under a thin clavicle, rendering the opponent a bleeding, screaming mess on the dirty ground. In Manila he learned kali, the art (and dance) of knives. First, in his dominant hand. Then his non-dominant. Then, finally both. He wields them like glides of ice between his hands until he knows the weight, strength and balance of everything he lays his hands on.

He was tactile by nature. Competitive, too. Scar tissues grew thicker over each new injury. But he would always stand, always walk again.

He was twenty-four when he decided to go back to his home and native land.

(In truth, he felt that he had nowhere else to go.)

He felt less human and more animal when he returned. The sights, scents and sounds felt foreign, sterile. There was no humidity or earth in the air. Nothing like how he'd spent the last ten years of his life. But he was quick to adapt.

It took no time to connect with his old suppliers, some of which have gone under while others grew exponentially. Jaehyun thought it a challenge, like so many others that he'd crushed. But logistics...

He knew he couldn’t do it alone, especially not if he wanted to make bigger bags. He went on the hunt for a pointman.

It came in the package of a short Chinese man. He goes by the name of Jun. He had a disarming smile and glacial eyes. Jaehyun gave him a larger cut than he should if it promised a mutually beneficial partnership. Jun shook his much larger hand once, cool and firm, and suggested that he’d better start looking for arms and runs.

Arms, fighters that were trained in hand-to-hand combat and handling firearms without so much as a glance, and even less hesitation. Runs, kids like Jaehyun used to be, young enough to weasel themselves into clubs and sell, old enough to have the common sense to not get into too much trouble. Everything was traceable, and Jaehyun didn't need trouble or danger. If not to ensure his reputation, then at least to save an impulsive teenager from a lethal beating.

(He briefly remembered the eyes that stared back at him from the far end of the hospital. Not a day over sixteen, already with a criminal record and fighting for his life.)

Jaehyun learned to turn off his heart. There was no use of it where it would benefit him. He also learned to read people, and to only recruit the best.

In five short years, his faction grew. His reach edged northeast to Japan, southwest to Indonesia. There were slim pickings further south to Perth and west to Mombasa, but his main dealings were through Hong Kong, where most of his shipments funnel through.

Hong Kong, large enough to be global, small enough to be overlooked. Hong Kong, perfect for crime.

Then came business. Propositions called him to Hong Kong at all times of the day, night, and all the hours in between. His numbers made him filthy. His bank account was stained with crisp reds and golds that would make a weaker dictator hard with desire. Which is how he finds himself in a restaurant in the quiet corners of MongKok, located by an underpass where only the light from above the bridge shone in a dark orange glow.

The restaurant had long since closed, with only one metal door open at the front where two of Jaehyun’s arms stood guard while his remaining team of three joined the fun. Jaehyun faces the back of the room, burning a stick of incense for the Guan Yu statue. He mouths a soundless worship.

Weapons are as illegal in Hong Kong as they are in South Korea. But it doesn't matter. His arms needn't weapons, they are the very things themselves.

After the promised five minutes of beating, Jaehyun turns around to face the bloodied rat of a supplier, Heung, and digs a pointed leather shoe tip under his chin, squeezing his throat.

“You will soon not have a life to regret not getting us our supply.” He says in fluid Cantonese. “Where is my shipment?”

Heung spits, the red landing nowhere near Jaehyun.

Jaehyun kicks Heung’s stomach, feeling the crunch of ribs against the top of his foot. A loud groan. New splatters of blood across stained restaurant tiles.

“Finish quickly.”

“Police! Put your hands up where I can see.”

A sigh. Jaehyun frowns at the smear of red on his shoe, before turning to glare at the intruder.

The man has a deceptively slight build, but Jaehyun can see that he is strong. He has angular features, big eyes, a strong nose and thick eyebrows.

“I've already called back up! I repeat, put your hands in the air!” He shouts in warning, looking no older than a fresh twenty. No shadow in his eyes. The corner of Jaehyun's lip twitches. Is that a police baton? They're smaller than he remembers.

“We're working right now, Mr. Policeman,” he drawls, slipping his hands into his pockets, a nonchalant tilt to his shoulders.

The policeman narrows his eyes. The grip around his baton tightens. Jaehyun glances at his arms by the door. They move before his next breath.

Moon and Hyo. They're fast, strong. He's travelled with them in the past four months after they've proven themselves in Daejeon. He trained them; how to balance their centre, defend, and attack. They should be able to handle any measly cop. But it quickly becomes clear that this green policeman knows a thing or two.

He ducks into a defensive position, having anticipated an attack, and swings his baton quickly. It snaps into Moon's underarm, a direct hit to ribs and liver. Then he shortens the distance to Hyo and blocks the metal pipe from Moon like he has eyes in the back of his head. He jabs his baton with dead accuracy under Moon's ribs to wind him, then turns quickly to hit north to the insides of Moon's thighs with his palms. Moon falls from shock and pain, and with a sickening crunch, Hyo's kneecaps give way.

But Hyo doesn't stop. He holds onto the policeman's ankles, and the rest of Jaehyun's arms join in.

Jaehyun falls to the back. Observing. Thinking.

He's encountered a fair amount of Hong Kong policemen in the last five years. It's nothing a bit of money, a warning, or a good beating cannot dissuade or subdue. But this one, he fights like he was trained to. He's swift, precise, and strong. Very strong. It’s a very distinctive style of fighting. A style that reminds Jaehyun of a legend he’s heard of in passing. He never thought he'd meet one.

It's almost worth the delay.

Knives, chairs and batons fall to the ground. Blood splatters everywhere. His last arms lay in a groaning heap on the ground. The policeman is in the middle of the room, checking on the hogtied, unresponsive Heung. Then he looks up to glare at Jaehyun again.

From this distance Jaehyun can see the name tag clearly: Lee, T.Y.

“Nine dragons,” he muses, taking his hands out of his pockets. “Never thought I'd meet one. And working for the Hong Kong police force? That's rich.”

A flash of something crosses Lee's eyes. “You are Korean.”

Jaehyun's lips widen into a smirk. His accent is barely noticeable to locals. Most thought he came from Mainland. He takes a step closer. “You trained with the SAS.”

Irritation bleeds into Lee's face. Too easy. Lee glances at something behind him, before focusing on his face again. His eyes harden. “You cannot be good if you are dealing with Heung and his men.”

Jaehyun briefly remembers Heung's discarded men in the back alleyway. “No, I wouldn't consider myself good.”

The question remains unasked, hanging in the tense air. Jaehyun takes two steps, invading Lee's space. “Let me teach you something. You should never engage unless you know your opponent.”

Lee narrows his eyes, taking a step forward. A challenging glint flashes in his eyes.

“Seu.”

Suddenly, heat explodes in Jaehyun's abdomen. It rushes through his veins, up his spine, all the way to his extremities. He sees white, like blinded by light. Shocked, he takes a step back, steadying himself. The burning sensation settles like a band around his right wrist. Secured. Taut. Pulling his wrist towards Lee, whose left wrist is extended as well, hanging in the air like against his will.

Like something has tied them together.

An ugly flash of anger fizzles in Jaehyun's veins. “You. What the fuck did you do!”

Lee pulls his wrist back, and Jaehyun's arm follows the movement. Jaehyun's eyes widen in shock as he quickly catches himself, stopping from crashing into the shorter man. “I-I don't know! I should be asking you!”

“A trap,” he snarls. He heaves and pulls his arm towards him. Lee loses balance and nearly falls at his feet. “Voodoo fucking magic. Undo this immediately!”

“I said I didn't know!” Lee growls. He takes two steps back, and Jaehyun feels the tension in the air between their wrists. “How do I know you’re not pulling this shit on me!”

Jaehyun presses his ear piece. He speaks, in Korean, “Jun, I need back up.”

Static.

“So are you really Seu-”

“If you don't shut the fuck up I will fucking kill you.”

Taeyong doesn’t respond, but he tenses up and slides the baton out of his belt. In this distance, Jaehyun can easily lose a rib or two. Jaehyun’s temper flares, feeling his patience grow thin. He swiftly hits the side of his hand against Lee's nape before Lee moves. The blow knocks Lee out, and he drops like a doll. Jaehyun's hand, arm and shoulder fall with him.

Jaehyun snarls, swinging an arm under the prone form to prop Lee against himself, refusing to fall.

“Jun I fucking swear to god-”

“Come outside. I've called clean up for the rest of the team.”

The call cuts.

Moon slowly climbs to his feet. “Hyung.”

“Get Hyo and the others. Jun will send you back.”

“Hyung-”

Jaehyun doesn't linger to listen to excuses. He staggers out with the extra weight, and sees the nondescript van. No is at the wheel with Min beside him, Jun behind, and Ji in the back. He arches an eyebrow at Jun, who shrugs. Whether it was to explain how late he was, or that the whole team suddenly tagged along is beyond Jaehyun. He climbs in, tugging Lee to the seat beside him. No takes off immediately.

No one speaks at first, then No, who has been with Jaehyun the longest, opens his mouth.

“A hostage?” He asks.

Jaehyun ignores him. “Jun, I need to go to Hanoi.”

“What are you doing in Hanoi?” Min asks, frowning at the sleeping man.

Jaehyun moves his right hand as far as he can reach. Lee's left hand hangs in the air, like pulled up by an invisible force.

The van is silent save for the low hum of the engine.

It takes Min a minute to turn back to the front, chasing the amused glint out of his eyes. No doesn’t stop driving, but abject disbelief overrides every apathy training Jaehyun’s put him through, if his shell shocked expression is anything to go by. Ji’s mouth simply hangs open. Jun closes it eventually, but his eyes trace between Jaehyun and Lee, and Jaehyun doesn’t need to look back to know that he’s on his phone, making calls.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”


	3. 02

When Taeyong comes to, he slowly becomes aware of two things. One, there is a low hum of the engine buzzing under his ear, and two, it smells like something he remembers to be dangerous. Taeyong’s not good at describing smells, but if he tries, he would call it a kind of smokey, leather scent with notes of fresh white flowers. It is strange, he thinks, how the smell can make him feel the urge to square up for the hardest fight in his life while simultaneously run for the hills because he doesn’t want to die. It's the most perplexing reaction.

His memories come rushing back and he inhales sharply, adrenaline spiking. His eyes shoot open and he tenses, feeling his arms and ankles bound together, and almost falls off the bed, but quickly finds his balance. _That was close._

The cabin is dark, but he knows he’s not alone. It’s the smell. He remembers it almost as clearly as he remembers the golden eyes of the man who knocked him out.

Seu.

Seu became a household name at his office in the past year. Seu and his gang, known for their wicked intelligence and gruesome methods. It sends a shiver down his back, to know that he’s among Seu and his people. And Seu. Seu is as ruthless as he is handsome. Those who get close enough to see the gold glint of his eyes almost never live to tell the tale. Yet here Taeyong is, meeting one of the most notorious gang leaders and serial killers, and living to the next day.

He waits for something to happen, someone to speak first. But when no conversation is forthcoming, he frowns and slowly turns his body over...

To come face to face with the devil himself.

His breath catches in his throat, red staining his cheeks. He knew he was watched, he didn’t realize it would be this scrutiny in such close proximity.

Seu doesn't so much as bat an eyelash.

Gathering his wits, Taeyong’s eyes harden into a glare. He says, in Cantonese, “Aren’t you supposed to make a villainous opening dialogue?”

Seu doesn’t react, so he tries again:

“You’re Seu, aren’t you?”

Nothing.

Giving up conversation, Taeyong struggles to sit up on the narrow cot and looks around. The room is small, fitting a cot along the wall, a small round window behind his head, a chair under the window, and a toilet that has seen better days. Judging by the smell of sea and the circular window, he’s probably on a ship, likely a cargo ferry, heading to god knows where.

Beside him, Seu shifts. Taeyong immediately tenses. Still, Seu says nothing. Not one for small talk, or any talk, then.

"What happened to the chatty person in the restaurant," Taeyong grumbles under his breath, wiggling his fingers to get some blood back in.

Something in Seu’s eye changes, and he leans over ever so slightly. Taeyong scrambles backwards, almost falling off the cot if it wasn't for Seu’s hand on his shoulder stopping him.

“Stop moving.”

Taeyong feels his heart thumping in his chest and chalks it up to the chaos the other man is capable of, not the way his voice sounds, or this soulmate bond bullshit. _Ugh, get a grip!_

But Seu’s reaction confirms his suspicions. He had a feeling, back at the restaurant, that what happened was not voodoo magic as Seu called it.

He remembered watching the heat seize Seu, making him stagger and lose balance before he felt the same effects. It was like pure energy burst from his heart, coursing through his veins to every part of him, before ending around his wrist. A gentle weight. A slight tug towards a certain direction.

He swallows thickly, ignoring the glaringly obvious.

“How long was I out for?”

“A few hours.”

“Where are you taking me?”

No answer.

There is a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Seu calls in Korean, gold eyes trained on Taeyong.

A man with medium build, wearing gold frames and beige coat, white shirt and dark grey slacks walks in. He has a round face, soft features, and eyes cut into Taeyong like icicles. He and Seu share a brief, meaningful glance and Seu nods.

“The safe house is cleared. An hour to arrival.” The man speaks in straight laced Korean. Taeyong detects a slight accent, one he often hears from his Chinese brothers. Seu’s pointman is Chinese. That would explain his sprawling web of business endeavours in Southern China.

“Any news from No?”

“No.”

Taeyong frowns.

Seu nods. “We’ll talk later.”

The spectacled man leaves. A heavy silence falls between them.

Seu turns to him, with something like curiosity in his eyes. “You’re Korean,” he says in Korean.

 _Shit._ Taeyong considers feigning ignorance, but he knows Seu can see right through his façade. He sighs. “So?” He replies in Korean.

“A Korean working for the Hong Kong Police and trained by the British SAS,” Seu lists, eyes drawing down and up Taeyong like he’s a particularly interesting specimen. Taeyong suppresses the urge to shiver. “Were you born in Hong Kong?”

The demand in his tone makes Taeyong sneer. “Tell me where we’re going.”

“Someone with your training should be able to narrow it down to, well, two possibilities by now.” Seu remarks, slowly standing to his feet. He’s no longer wearing the flashy gold and black suit that fit him like a glove, sticking out like a sore thumb under the blinking fluorescent light of the restaurant. He’s wearing sand-coloured cargo pants and a soft-looking black tee.

Then Taeyong realizes his uniform’s completely stripped from him, and that he’s wearing similar clothes. He considered throwing a fit knowing they put their hands on him without his consent, but the implication is far worse.

He- no. _They are going under._

His shock must’ve shown on his expression, because Seu is grinning with all his teeth.

“I hope you like the heat.”

It’s a moot comment, Taeyong thinks. There’s a bag over his head, blocking his view, but at least he’s conscious, not passed out and tossed around like a sack of potatoes. The heat hits him as soon as he walks out of the tempered interior of the ferry, across the docks. He considers making a run, but with his hands still tied, figurative and literally, there’s no way his attempt will succeed. Even if he took down Seu, he still has a team with him.

A loud shout from faraway confirmed his suspicions.

“Ở đây!”

Vietnam. Not Hong Kong. Definitely not where he can ask for help. Shit. _Shit._

His feet hit gravel and he hesitates. There’s a van waiting. He knows it. He also knows the longer he stays with Seu, the smaller the chance of his survival. If only there was a way out-

“Don’t even think about it.”

A hand pushes him forward, and he keeps walking with his hands tied behind. Rivulets of sweat form, having nothing to do with the heat and humidity, and drip down his back. The van door opens and he counts the footsteps climbing in. Three. Then he’s roughly shoved into a van in the middle seat before Seu’s scent wafts in behind him.

The drive is silent. And long. For someone being kidnapped, Taeyong is quite comfortable. He tries not to fall asleep, but with the heat, silence and gentle rocking of the car, he eventually does.

An unknown amount of time passes before someone taps his shoulder, waking him.

“How can anyone fall asleep in a hostage situation?” He hears a low voice mutter to his front, and feels a little offended.

“Why don’t you try being in my shoes and see how you take it,” he snaps, stumbling out of the van.

“I’d never fall asleep if my hands were tied behind my back like that,” the voice snaps back. Taeyong can hear a childish smirk. He’s a kid, probably no older than eighteen. Figures that Seu would recruit juniors to do his dirty work; what a piece of trash.

“Ji.” Rings a low voice beside him. Seu.

“Sorry,” Ji mutters.

They’re ushered into what Taeyong assumes is the safe house before the black linen bag is pulled from his head.

It took a few seconds to adjust, but Taeyong feels slightly underwhelmed. It looked more or less like a hotel room. Generic chair, bed and night table in the bedroom. Generic couch, coffee table, lamp, desk and chair in the living area, where he is unceremoniously dropped to.

Two new people come into view. There is a lanky man with narrow eyes, a tall nose and plump lips pulled into a half-scowl staring at him from the wall. The other, an unrightfully handsome man with pink hair, angular features pulled into a neutral expression regards them, then back out the window, then the door. They both look ridiculously young.

Seu sits beside him by the coffee table.

“Should he even be conscious?” One of them asks. Taeyong recognizes the voice. Ji. He sounds as he looks, like a teenager.

“It wouldn’t matter either way, once we break the bond,” Seu replies.

A strange silence falls on them, mostly because the plan to kill the hostage is revealed so bluntly to the hostage. Taeyong does not like where this is going.

“Do I not have a say in this? What if I manage to escape?”

A different kind of silence falls on them.

The pink haired man is the first to break, letting out a mix of snort-chortle. Ji facepalms audibly. Taeyong thinks that if he can procure the same result a few more times, Ji would knock himself out. Seu sighs, unfolding his arms and turning to Taeyong when suddenly, the pink haired man takes a step back from the window. The pointman barges in.

He takes one look at Taeyong, then back at Seu.

“Is he a part of all of our conversations? This feels like a breach of privacy.”

“I didn’t think to stock up on sedatives in a safe house,” Seu replies sarcastically. “Knocking him out would mean more for me to carry if we need to run.”

“Just cut off his arm,” Ji suggests.

Seu sighs. He raises an arm, flicks out his switchblade and presses the tip into his forearm. Taeyong flinches as though he was cut. A second. Then, pearl drops of blood form on both Seu’s and Taeyong’s forearm.

Everyone reacts with degrees of shock. Taeyong quickly applies pressure to the cut, but finds it almost sticking back together. A clean cut. So clean that his body didn’t realize it was cut open. And to be fair, he wasn’t the one who got cut. Jaehyun was. His heart hammers in his ears.

“What the fuck is this voodoo shit!” Ji hisses, leaping away from Seu and Taeyong, as though soulmates was a condition and contagious.

“Soulmate isn’t voodoo. It’s fate.” The pink-haired man calmly interjects.

Seu folds his blade away, flicking the blood off, and turns to the pointman. “Tails?”

The pointman shakes his head. “None. There’s a search warrant for the pretty policeman here, but other than that, no evidence, no tails.”

Seu nods. “Keep your channels open.”

The pointman rolls his eyes. “They’re never closed.”

“What about the other lead?”

“Still looking into it. I’m not going to send you out when I don’t have as much information as I can get.” The pointman shrugs, glancing at the pink-haired man by the window. “You don’t need more targets painted on your forehead, coming back here.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

The pointman sighs. “Give me three days.”

Taeyong, who has been sitting in the middle of this conversation, slowly stands.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

No one answers for a moment. Finally, Seu scrubs his face and stands to his feet as well. He points to a door. “No funny business.”

Taeyong snorts. “You’d feel the tug if there was.” Then, because it is much too stuffy and frankly kind of morbid (at his expense), he throws a wink behind him and hurries into the washroom.

There was a short pause before Ji blinks. “Did he just _wink_ at you?”

This time, the pink haired man tips his head and lets out a booming laugh.

The sky slowly darkens as night creeps into the space of the safe house. Taeyong is left mostly to his devices, which suits him just fine. Well, as alone as he can be when Seu is within two to three strides. Taeyong approximates two to three meters. He swears it’s shorter some moments, and longer in others. It’s the strangest thing.

He takes the time to reassess the situation, and it does not look too bright for him. He, like Ji, had also wondered why Seu didn’t kill him when he found out about their bond. He didn’t know that an injury done to one soulmate would transfer to the other.

Suicide briefly crosses his mind, but.

He can’t. He has too much life left to live. He doesn’t want to die in a country he has no attachment to, by a man with little regard for life. Plus, the other dragons are probably looking for him. They are nothing if not resourceful and, when they find him, he’ll be able to set the score straight with Seu.

He’ll need to send them a message first, which will probably be the most challenging part.

It brings him back to the question of why Seu brought them to Vietnam. If Seu’s fighting (and killing) styles are anything to go by, he’s probably familiar with these lands and the people, which confirms Taeyong’s suspicion. There’s probably a way to sever the bond without killing either of them, and Seu is leading them to it.

The idea that they will not be bonded at the end of this is comforting. But there is an equally high chance, at Seu’s admission, that Taeyong will not live much longer after the bond is broken.

Which just means that he must keep up his training so that when the time comes, he’ll be able to defend himself and, possibly, kill Seu. The idea is not very thrilling.

He sighs morosely, staring into space.

Loud clattering brings him back to the present.

“Ji,” comes a growl beside him.

“Sorry,” Ji squeaks.

Taeyong watches the younger man flinch under Seu’s gaze and feels the smallest amount of sympathy. He’s holding onto a pan with something inside. Taeyong frowns at it. “What are you cooking?”

“Um,” Ji pauses looking between Seu and Taeyong, and Taeyong sighs again.

“Have you ever cooked? Are you going to set us on fire?”

“N-no! Of course not! And I have... boiled water for ramen.”

The pink-haired man, overhearing the commotion, glances at Taeyong. “Can you cook?”

Taeyong shrugs. “I’ve fed myself for years without giving myself food poisoning.”

Everyone turns to Seu, who glares back. “What?”

“He offered to cook.” Ji says simply.

“Actually,” starts Taeyong.

“So?” growls Seu.

“So walk over so he can reach the goddamn kitchen and we’ll have dinner that doesn’t taste like hot garbage,” snaps the pink-haired man. “No offense, Ji.”

“None taken.”

Taeyong sits in stunned silence. He feels the heat of Seu’s glare aimed at the pink-haired man, who grins widely, like he didn't just order his boss around.

After a tense silence, Seu moves a few feet, which allows Taeyong the mobility around the kitchen. Taeyong quickly checks the pantry to find beans, lentils, various dried herbs and seasoning, rice grains, potatoes, beets and onions. It’s more than enough. Seu crosses his arms, a scowl on his face. “Well?”

“Food doesn’t appear before your eyes cooked and ready to serve.”

“It would be if we ordered in.”

Taeyong tsks. “You never know what is in the food when it’s made outside. Also, I would rather not kill every delivery boy who is just trying to make ends meet.”

Seu doesn’t say anything for a long time. He remains in the corner of the small kitchenette, watching Taeyong commandeer the various pots and pans until a fragrant scent of delicious, edible food is served on grey porcelain. The pointman appears out of nowhere and demands to be fed pronto, the pink-haired man and Ji fight for second in line.

When Taeyong catches the way Seu’s scowl deepens, he grins widely.


	4. 03

Two days go by in the blink of an eye. Taeyong cooks while Seu supervises, Ji makes awkward conversation, and the pink-haired man hovers nearby. The pointman has disappeared since the first night. Taeyong doesn’t know what to think, but doesn’t want to assume the worst for his captives, even though he’s technically being held hostage. Kidnapped. He’s not sure what to call this, not sure there’s a word for it.

Finally, at midnight between the third and fourth day, the pointman comes back with determination in his eyes. Seu raises from his spot on the couch, almost dragging Taeyong to meet the pointman in the middle.

“Outskirts of Chiang Mai. Last seen near Pai. She’ll be there for a while.”

Seu nods. “Send them back to help No.”

Ji and the pink-haired man begin to protest, but the pointman doesn’t waver. “What about you?”

“I know my way around.”

They stare at each other for a long time, then the pointman relents. “See to it. I’d rather have you alive than dead at the end of this ordeal.”

He motions for the other two to follow him, but Ji hesitates from his spot by the wall.

“Min and Jun can take care of Daejeon. I’ll stay.”

Seu shakes his head. “No needs you more.” When Ji doesn’t move, Seu sighs. “I’ll see you in two weeks. Go now.”

The three shuffle out with cloaked discretion. It isn’t until their shadows have disappeared that Taeyong realizes he’s alone with Seu, and anything can happen. No one will know. Cold sweat forms on his back.

“I won’t kill you,” says Seu. The timbre in his voice folds each word into a blade sharp enough to cut through diamond.

“I wasn’t thinking it,” Taeyong lies, wondering if it was just a lucky guess or if something on his face gave him away.

“I can feel it through the bond.”

“Oh.” Taeyong says, suddenly feeling exposed and unprotected. “Why can't I feel anything from you?"

Seu doesn’t reply.

The pointman left them with packs that are filled with rations, necessities, and a belt of weapons that Seu immediately clips around himself. Taeyong does not miss the unreasonably attractive display of abs or the garish scars on his skin. He looks away before he’s caught.

They leave before the break of dawn.

As a policeman who went through British SAS training with the goal of eventually joining the Special Duties Unit, Taeyong is no stranger covering long distances in a short amount of time, through muggy weather, and with a heavy pack. The clothes the pointman left behind are light and breathable, no doubt to make it as comfortable as possible for Seu. It’s a cake-walk for Taeyong.

Seu, carrying twice the weight, breaks a sweat within five minutes of walking. Taeyong is a little concerned for his unexpectedly active sweat glands. But Seu doesn't seem to be fazed as they make their way through a small town, down a path that leads to the forest, following trails that are lush and overgrown with suggestions of a path that are misshapen, probably by wild boars.

At some point, Taeyong is convinced they're lost.

"Are you sure we are going in the right direction?"

No answer.

"Hey, Seu."

Crickets, literally.

"Seu. Why would you choose that to be your boss name, of all the names you can have?"

Seu stops in his tracks, turning to level Taeyong with a glare. "Do you ever shut up?"

Taeyong ignores his intimidation tactic. "If I annoy you to death, will I also die?"

Seu turns back to walking. "I suggest you not try to find out, because I am this close to cracking your skull."

"Gruesome," Taeyong chirps, trying to sound unfazed. He adjusts the weight of the pack on his shoulders. "What does your name mean?"

“Tiger,” Seu answers with a sigh. He stops, looking around a small clearing, up at the surrounding trees, and nodding. “We’ll set up camp here.”

Taeyong blinks. “Why now? There is probably another hour of daylight left.”

Seu shakes his head. He sets his pack down, stretching his neck to loosen the muscles, and takes the tent out. “It’s going to rain.”

Taeyong hums. “A bit of water won’t hurt.”

“A bit?” The corner of Seu’s mouth curls into a small smirk. It somehow makes him look animalistic, and reminiscent of their first conversation in the restaurant. An involuntary shiver runs up Taeyong’s spine. “You can stay out of the tent if you want.”

Taeyong clears his throat, pretending to scope out the surrounding. “Right. Let’s say you know how to predict the weather and there’s a lot of rain coming down. We passed by a village not twenty minutes back. Just find shelter there.”

“It is safer here,” is all Seu offers before he pulls the tarp, hooks and supporting beams out of his pack. With nowhere to go and nothing to do, Taeyong helps clean the ground. Between the two of them, the tent is set in less than five minutes. Then they blink in realization.

“It’s a one person tent, I think,” Taeyong says, squinting. “Like, it’s really small.”

Seu looks like he wants to punch the tent to the ground, then find his pointman and punch _him_ to the ground. (Somewhere in Daejeon, Jun cackles privately to himself.) Seu gathers himself, and his pack on the ground, ignoring Taeyong’s protests of _Stop, we won’t fit._

“You can stay out here if you want,” are his last words. He quickly slides into the tent as the first drops of rain fall, zipping the door behind him.

Taeyong feels the bond tighten just a bit, like Seu is making sure he isn’t going anywhere.

He growls, fighting the urge to stomp on his foot as he scans the forest, then up at the sky. Too soon, the sound of raindrops hitting the leaves pitter-patter into his ears. He stands his ground, refusing to walk into the same tent of an arrogant, trigger-happy asshole. It can't be _that_ much rain. But it becomes louder, and the raindrops fatten into globs of water, hitting his hair, shoulders, face. Lightning cracks from the corner of his eyes. A loud thunder follows.

Soon after, the rain becomes a roaring noise in his ears as it comes down by the buckets. The wind picks up, and the crack of thunder gets louder, shaking him to his core. The last straw is when he sees a dead bird floating on a current past his leg, swears, ripping the tent open.

The lantern that’s hung in the middle of the tent swings from the motion.

Seu’s and Taeyong’s eyes meet. Taeyong wipes off the swab of wet hair plastered to his forehead, feeling angry at everything.

“Not. A fucking. Word.”

Seu, sitting cross-legged and slightly hunched over, pretends to be busy putting away his pack. Taeyong makes space by the foot of the tent, peeling the wet layers that stick to him like second skin, irritated at the rain, the thunder, but mostly at Seu being right.

“Take it off to dry faster,” Seu suggests.

Taeyong glares at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He does, however, take off his shirt and considers his pants for a split second before leaving them on. The way they stick to his legs is uncomfortable, but it’s nothing he hasn’t experienced before. Training was worse. He lays his shirt in front of him, and curls into a ball.

Shittiest camping experience ever. And he’s had some pretty bad ones in Wales during training-

“-through the night,” he hears Seu finishing.

“What?”

Seu glares at him for a beat, then shakes his head. “The things I would do to you if we weren’t bonded,” he mutters. “I told you to get comfortable. It will rain harder through the night.”

Taeyong scoffs. “Right, because it’s definitely possible to get comfortable in a space like this with someone like you. Easy. Why didn’t I think of it before?”

Seu narrows his eyes dangerously. “Save your sarcasm. I’m as thrilled about this as you are.”

Taeyong throws him a dark look. “You're taking this awfully good. It’s almost like you’ve done this before.”

“Imagine the terrors of being bonded to someone twice,” Seu says in his best deadpan. It’s so ridiculous that Taeyong laughs and laughs. He feels like he’s losing his marbles with each breath. When he calms down, Seu adds, “Glad one of us finds humour in this.”

“What are the chances? Six billion? Seven? No one meets their soulmate, ever. To have it happen twice is. Is.”

“Impossible,” Seu finishes. “You only have one chance at soulmates.”

“Shit luck for me, that it was you.”

Seu narrows his eyes. Taeyong feels his temper like a flare of heat around his wrist, and freezes. Seu seems to have realized what happened, because he calms down almost immediately. The burning goes away.

“Wow- I. Wow.”

Seu snorts at his eloquence. “Lucky for you, I don’t have many strong emotions.”

Taeyong bites his bottom lip.

Around them, the sound of rain hitting the rubber tarp grows louder and louder. Taeyong leans against the side, and lets out a soft huff of breath.

“Should I assume that there’s a way to sever this bond somewhere in this forest?” Seu glances at him and nods wordlessly. Something in Taeyong’s chest tightens. “How do you know this?”

“I’ve seen it.”

“Who were the bonded pair?”

Seu doesn’t elaborate, which irks Taeyong even more.

“Is it dangerous?” He asks.

Seu sighs. “Do you want to be bonded?”

Not knowing what to say, Taeyong shakes his head.

“Then it’s not too dangerous.”

An uneasy silence drifts between them. Taeyong doesn’t want to ask what happens after the procedure. He has an idea Seu will not let him live much longer when the whole ordeal is done and over with. Seu seems to have similar thoughts, because he exhales and stretches his legs out. His feet nudge the edge of Taeyong’s wet t-shirt.

Taeyong narrows his eyes. “Hey, watch it.”

Seu glares right back. “You can go back out there if you want.”

A flash of lightning sends sharp shadows across the tent. Loud thunder follows. Taeyong gulps, cursing at pathetic fallacy.

“If only we weren’t bonded,” he grumbles, putting his pack away.

“Don’t tempt me.” Seu shoots back snarkily.

Another silence, though not as awkward as the ones before.

It makes Taeyong nostalgic of the torrential rain during the thunderstorm season in Hong Kong. He remembers ducking out of the bus, chucking his broken umbrella into the garbage, before darting to his building complex. It was less than five minutes away, but five steps in the rain and he’s drenched to the bone. His parents were still at work, but his sister was home. She ordered him to take a shower, then served up a bowl of steamy carrot and corn soup from the night before. The memory warmed his stomach.

“My parents met in Hong Kong. I was born and lived there my whole life.” Taeyong says after a long silence.

He feels Seu’s gaze on him and tries not to flinch.

“Your Korean is good,” Seu comments quietly.

“It was all we spoke at home.” Taeyong shrugs, glancing at Seu, who returns his gaze. “It was difficult to grow up with three languages. I remember switching back and forth when I was a kid. Used to drive my mum wild.” He smiles softly, remembering.

Something flashes across Seu’s eyes, but Taeyong might’ve imagined it. Seu looks away.

“I’ve been to South Korea exactly twice, to visit my grandmother and other relatives. But that was a long time ago,” continues Taeyong. “I’ve never been attached to the place. But I think I’ll want to go back at some point, spending a longer time exploring and learning about my roots.”

Seu hums quietly, contemplative. Taeyong feels a soft, warm feeling from their bond and smiles.

“I remember my grandmother’s soondubu jjigae. Never had anything so spicy in my life, and she made it mild.” He laughs. “She always said it was the mildest she could make it, otherwise it’d compromise her authenticity. I, oh-”

A drip.

“I think I found a leak.” He looks at Seu like he’s expecting him to do something about it. Seu stares back. “Here, it’s right behind me. Do you have a scrap of something to stuff in it?”

Seu brushes his hair back with an irritated sigh. “Move over so I can take a look.”

Taeyong wiggles around as Seu climbs into the space he was previously occupying. Neither of them are particularly big, but they’re not small either. It’s a tight squeeze. Taeyong ignores how the air from Seu’s side of the tent smells just like the man. He also doesn’t want to contemplate why it makes him warm.

Seu frowns at the tarp. Taeyong opens his mouth, but Seu beats him to it. “If you try anything, know that your life is in as much danger as it ever was since you entered my personal space.”

Taeyong closes his mouth, glaring at the broad back of the man.

Seu leans closely to inspect the seams of the tent and, indeed, finds a small tear. He sighs, and rummages through his pack for something to patch it up. A sock is wedged in place, then Seu turns back to a glaring Taeyong.

“What? Thought you were going to burst into Kumbaya just now.”

“I was not,” Taeyong snaps.

“Okay.” Seu rolls his eyes. He takes out a few packets from his bag. “Dinner?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.”

Seu cracks open a small can of beans, pours it into a packet of rations, and brandishes a spoon from nowhere. It does not smell very appetizing. Taeyong wrinkles his nose and ignores Seu's existence. Seu finishes his meal, then opens another packet, one Taeyong immediately recognizes.

“Is that a granola bar?”

Seu pauses just before he bites in, leveling Taeyong with a look. “...yes.”

“What flavour?”

“Why?”

“Just tell me the flavour!”

“Dog piss and sea salt.”

Taeyong leans forward, eyes expectant. “Mm, my favourite.”

Seu takes a bite, and Taeyong protests by throwing his hands in the air, almost knocking into the roof of the tent. Seu pulls Taeyong's left hand down, but didn't move either of his hands. He did it through their bond. Taeyong’s suspicion was correct.

“You could control how long the bond goes,” he accuses.

Seu sniffs, glaring at him coolly. “So could you.”

“How?”

“Think it.”

Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut and thinks, only to feel a smack upside his head. Seu shoots him a withering look before settling with his legs crossed. Taeyong copies his motions.

“Trace the bond that connects your heart to the string around the wrist. It should still feel fresh, almost uncomfortable.” Taeyong looks at his left wrist, Seu’s right wrist, and tries to feel the bond. After a moment, a warmth emanates from his wrist, spreading up his arm and to his chest.

“Whoa.”

“Feel around it.”

Taeyong does. He takes haphazard steps first, feeling the thrumming energy of the bond, imagining the string around his and Seu’s wrists, and feels a cold familiarity. A sound croaks through his throat-

“Jae-”

A knife presses into the side of his throat.

Taeyong gasps, eyes wide and falls onto the side of the tent. It almost loses balance and topples over. Their belongings fly everywhere, but none hit Taeyong. Not that they would, when Seu- no, Jaehyun is crouched above him, gold eyes flickering dangerously. Taeyong’s heart falls to his stomach. He’s going to die. He’s going to die because Jaehyun is going to kill him.

“What did you say.” Jaehyun growls, punctuating each word with heavy emphasis.

Taeyong inhales softly, and feels a spike of pain as the edge cuts into his skin. He watches the same incision form on the pale skin of Jaehyun’s throat. His hammering heart drowns out the torrent of rain on the tarp. He forgets to breathe.

“Seu is not your real name.”

The blade doesn’t let up.

Taeyong releases a soft, shuddering breath and tries again. “Felt it through the bond. I swear I didn’t know.”

“That's because you couldn’t have known.” Jaehyun snarls, voice dangerously low. He glares at Taeyong for a long moment, before swiftly climbing off, turning his body to face the other side of the tent.

Taeyong slowly sits up. He feels like he should apologize, but doesn’t know what he’s sorry for. Is it a breach of security when the owner of the information gave him the key personally? He feels wronged, and wants to protest. But the hard line of Jaehyun’s shoulder stops his words.

In the end, he says nothing. Curling to his side of the tent, he wiggles his pack under his head, and tries to ignore the sound of thunder and rain around him, slipping into a dreamless sleep.


	5. 04

Jaehyun opens his eyes when he hears soft rustling around the tent. The sun has not risen, but he’s never needed much rest. Especially after what happened last night. He’s never felt more out of control, not even when he was beaten by his own brothers when he used to run for the Gangnam faction.

Reading minds. Gleaning information. He didn’t know it could happen. But then again, he never asked, didn’t care enough to want to know. He lets out a deep sigh. The bond around his wrist is starting to feel less foreign, but its weight still bothers him. He’s not sure if it is the bond itself, or the person he’s bonded to.

It’s peculiar, waking up next to a soulmate you have no feelings (well, very little positive feelings for), knowing that you are going to break it so you can return to the life you know. Jaehyun doesn’t dwell on the latter too much. The soulmate part now, _there’s_ something to think about.

A policeman. Jaehyun laughs at the idea. What poetic justice is this, that his soulmate actively represents the very thing he operates against? Law-abiding, law-enforcing, with a strong moral compass that aligns with the government and no mind of his own; Taeyong is the very person Jaehyun despises.

But Taeyong is also one of the nine dragons, and that reputation precedes everything else.

Martial arts disciples are drafted young, put through rigorous training from dusk to dawn, and beyond that as required to hone mind and body. They believe the two are interconnected. In order to bring out the best in one, the other must be balanced. Their fighting reflects it.

Nine Dragons, however, come specifically from Hong Kong, and their fighting was inspired by the late Bruce Lee. An amalgamation of different styles, trained with one intention: to win. As they are not bound to rules, they are rumoured to be the strongest fighters to come out of the world of Chinese martial arts. In other words, they fight effectively, sometimes ‘dirty’.

Jaehyun didn’t try to stare when he changed Taeyong into the undercover clothes, but his eyes were drawn to the licks of a dragon tattoo tumbling from the slope of Taeyong’s shoulder, down his trim, muscular back, to the dip of his hips when he changed Taeyong out of his ugly policeman uniform. He almost scoffed, but he was in no place to criticize.

A policeman with a giant dragon tattoo. The Hong Kong Police Force must’ve thrown a fit when they saw. Which meant Taeyong was that good, that they allowed him to join the force.

Back to the present.

With a sigh he quietly turns to his side and comes face to face with Taeyong. With his eyes closed, expression relaxed and open, he looks more warm, honest, trusting. Jaehyun almost pulls back at the intensity of these emotions- no, observations.

(This reminds Jaehyun of a few days ago, when Taeyong initiated conversation by prompting Jaehyun to make a villain’s introductory monologue. Jaehyun bit it back just in time, if only to not give Taeyong the satisfaction that he was nearly right.)

Jaehyun calms his heart and collects his thoughts.

Taeyong is a formidable opponent.

Taeyong is his soulmate.

Fate is a bitch.

Jaehyun pulls away. It’s too much to contemplate so early in the morning. He stretches his legs, gathers his pack that is heavy with weapons, and climbs out of the tent.

It takes ducking under trees, skirting around large puddles in the ground, and untying his pants for his morning piss to realize: he’s stepped over five metres from the tent.

Shit.

When Taeyong climbs out of the tent, Jaehyun is sharpening a stick of bamboo into a spear with unusual ferocity. Chalking it up to morning mood swings, Taeyong ignores the aggressive chopping and riffles through his pack for his toothbrush and toothpaste. Camping is fun and all, but oral hygiene comes first.

Jaehyun looks up at him as though he wants to say something, but thinks better of it and turns back to the task at hand. So Taeyong strides to the other side of their camp site, brushing and washing until he feels marginally cleaner, then walks back to where Jaehyun is.

“What’s that for?” Taeyong asks, crouching to Jaehyun’s eve-level.

“Poaching noisy humans for breakfast,” Jaehyun growls. Taeyong blinks.

“Appetizing.”

“I’ll save an eyeball for you. They’re surprisingly juicy.”

Taeyong shoots Jaehyun a disgusted look before returning to the tent.

The sun just broke out of the horizon, painting the sky with bright orange and yellow. The air is cool and crisp, and Taeyong feels a strange balance at the pit of his belly. It’s not like he slept soundly last night. But the rain helped drown out the thoughts in his head after basically deafening him. He inhales deeply, stretching his arms above his head, and packs up the tent without being asked.

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question.

They’re back on the road. Jaehyun’s long, pointed spear breaks up the thick shrubbery as he leads, Taeyong right behind him. Jaehyun can feel a low hum of something pleasant from the bond, and it. Well. It doesn’t sit with him.

“Pick up speed,” he calls over his shoulder.

Taeyong frowns. “Do you want to kill me this badly?”

Jaehyun feels the quickly becoming familiar unease seep into their bond, and tries to block it out. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” he grumbles, a new burst of speed to his strides. “And unless you want to stay bonded to me, I suggest you move faster.”

Taeyong opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He looks at Jaehyun, who stares back, imagining the cogs clicking in place. Jaehyun readies himself for an onslaught of questions. He's not disappointed.

“I don’t actually know what the rules are to being bonded with someone, but you seem to know a lot. But last night-” Taeyong pauses, like he’s looking for the right words, “I don’t want to upset you again, since my life tends to be threatened when you are. But hey, come to think of it, I’m doing this for you as much as it is for me. So if I asked you questions, would you answer truthfully?”

_Taeyong and his goddamn virtue._

Jaehyun sighs, gesturing for Taeyong to continue.

Taeyong doesn’t say anything for a while, but when he opens his mouth, the first question is: “I’ve heard a lot of things about soulmates, but I’ve never met one in my life.” It’s not a question, so Jaehyun waits. “Were your parents soulmates?”

Jaehyun pauses. “No, they were not.”

A spark of something flashes in Taeyong’s eyes. “How do you know so much about it?”

Jaehyun doesn’t speak for a long time. In fact, they finish crossing a river before he replies: “I trained under a pair.”

If Taeyong was surprised, it doesn’t show on his face. “What else can you tell me about soulmates?”

The question is open-ended and well-intended. Asking for knowledge without sounding pushy. It almost pulls the seniority out of Jaehyun, like he’s disciplining his arms and runs. Except, this is Lee Taeyong. A stranger and his soulmate. He feels a tug at his wrist. He’s not sure if it was Taeyong intentionally pulling it, or from their distance. He ignores it.

“I don’t know much,” he says at last. “I never thought it would happen to me.”

“We’ve established that,” Taeyong nods. “Do you think one person can share a soulmate?”

“Are you asking if there is a limit to the number of soulmates in a relationship?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Jaehyun sniffs, a strange, possessive feeling creeping in his stomach. “I don’t know.”

Taeyong makes a vague sound in the back of his throat. “Then what about this: Is it true that people who are bonded are perfect for each other?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, remembering something. “Likely not true.”

“Then what’s the point of soulmates?”

 _There is none_ , Jaehyun wants to say, but he thinks better of it. “What do you think?”

“The point?” Taeyong hums, brushing the underside of his ear for a moment. Jaehyun follows the motion, down the defined jawline. He looks away quickly. “If you’re speaking the truth about soulmates not being perfect for each other, then I guess there is no point.”

Jaehyun hums, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

“But that’s kind of stupid, isn’t it? If you’ve already met someone who you are really compatible with, what’s the point of soulmates? And if soulmates don’t get along, case in point,” Taeyong gestures to the space between him and Jaehyun, smiling wryly, “then it’s all just false hope. It’s almost like chasing the end of the rainbow for the pot of gold, or riding the carousel to catch the gold ring. You’ll never get it, and then you grow up.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrow raises. “Didn’t peg you as a reader.”

Taeyong shrugs. “Came across the book in passing. I’m more interested in Jin Yong’s works.”

“Really,” Jaehyun deadpans. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Taeyong chuckles.

Another pulse of warmth through the bond.

Jaehyun clenches his jaw and walks faster.

“Hey wait!” Taeyong calls, catching up.

The conversation drifts to silence. They skirt around a village, pass the grazing cows, sitting hens, and large plots of farmland. Taeyong wipes the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. Jaehyun notes strong, measured movements before he looks away, pretending like he wasn't staring.

Finally, Jaehyun asks: “Do you believe in it?”

“Believe in soulmates?” Taeyong takes a moment to think, before shrugging. “I guess I did. I never really thought it would happen to me though, so I never really thought what would happen if I were to find my, well, you.”

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, but he scrunch his nose.

“If I were more romantic, I’d say the idea of soulmates gives hope that there is someone out there for you. The never-stop-trying kind,” Taeyong continues, thinking out loud. “People underestimate how much it takes to stay in a relationship.”

The way Taeyong speaks ignites a small kindle in Jaehyun’s stomach. It's like Taeyong's reading his thoughts. Jaehyun weighs his next question, wondering if it’s a breach of privacy. _Are you in a relationship with someone?_ But Taeyong beats him to it.

“By the way, are you dating anyone?”

Jaehyun pretends to not hear him and suddenly throws the spear into a nearby patch of shrubbery. Taeyong jumps. A shrill hiss emits from the source, and Jaehyun strides to it, pulling back the leaves.

It's a snake. Vibrant, turquoise blue, trickling red and writhing on the ground. The spear pierces cleanly through its head. Its body doesn’t realize it has died. Jaehyun sinks the spear in half an inch, twists, then tugs it loose. The twitching body slides off, leaving a red trail. Taeyong gulps.

“Grilled snake?” Jaehyun asks, arching an eyebrow.

Taeyong shrinks back, shaking his head furiously. “And risk getting all sorts of diseases? No thanks.”

An amused glint appears in Jaehyun’s gold eyes. “You haven’t eaten all day.”

Taeyong pointedly looks away. “My appetite has disappeared all of a sudden.”

“All the better. It’s a local delicacy. Rumour has it that it can strengthen your body, _enhance your appetite_.”

Taeyong’s pale cheeks gain a healthy red hue, understanding the subtext. He quickly turns around and points at the air. “Wait- is that a path?” Without waiting for a reply, he escapes before Jaehyun can catch up, bloody spear in hand.

Jaehyun smirks, flicking off the blood, and stalks after Taeyong.

They walk in another silence before Taeyong’s stomach, ever the betrayer, growls loudly. Jaehyun makes no comment, but the shit-eating grin on his face is all that’s needed to set Taeyong off.

Taeyong shoots him a glare. “Stop hogging the rations.”

Jaehyun waves the bloody spear at his face. “Should’ve offered to carry some.”

Taeyong takes the spear and snaps it cleanly in half over his knee. “Says the kidnapper.”

Jaehyun whistles, not at all impressed. “Now you owe me.”

“What? A walking stick?”

“A disposable weapon. White lipped viper. It was poisonous.”

“Oh.” Taeyong pauses. “That explains its colour.”

“There’s a big stick over there.” Jaehyun throws Taeyong his switchblade, blade out. Taeyong sweeps it out of the air before it lodges between his eyes. “Start sharpening.”

Taeyong grumbles. “Unnecessary. You could’ve killed me.”

“Then I would’ve killed myself along with you.” Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “Now start sharpening.”

•••

A tight figure sits by the circular window, twirling his sais with an agitated air about him.

“A city of over six million and not one eye witness,” he says. The glint from his blades reflect flashes of light across the small room of the ferry. “It’s almost like willful ignorance, isn’t it?”

“You were also in the city and noticed nothing,” comes a second voice. Lighter, with a sharper edge.

“Heung’s entire team was badly injured, Heung himself hospitalized, and may never recover from his injuries. They took out his _spine._ That couldn’t have gone quietly.”

“Not if it helped the police,” a third voice adds.

The first man shakes his head. The muscle in his jaw tightens. “No one deserves to be broken this way.”

“You’re right,” the third voice agrees.” But that’s not for us to judge. Whoever it is, they have Taeyong with them.”

“Captured without reason. Then went all the way to Vietnam.” The first man shakes his head. He sheaths his sais, leaping off the chair. His black uniform flows around him, silent as the night. “If it really is who we think it is, why would he go to where it is most dangerous for him? His drug business paints a target on his head. He’s in hot water with authority wherever he goes. And this arrogant bastard still doesn’t hide his face.”

“If I had a face like that, I wouldn’t hide it either.”

“Doyoung.”

The second man, Doyoung, shakes his head. “Let’s say you’re right. Seu captured Taeyong and they’re somewhere in Vietnam. Why would he go there? What’s he playing at?”

A sharp shrill rings in the dark. The men glance at each other before the first man picks up. “もしもし.”

“Yuta-nii?”

A small smile tugs at Yuta’s lips. “Mark-chan, it’s nice to hear from you again.”

“I just got the messages. It’s early morning in Vancouver. Sorry I couldn’t go with you guys.”

“We don’t blame you.” Yuta meets eyes with the other two in the room. Though they may be wearing black in a dark room, the happiness in their eyes are bright and genuine, twinkling in the dark. “Johnny, Doyoung and I are more than capable of handling this. We’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you.” The warmth and gratitude in Mark’s voice speaks volumes of his concern for Taeyong. “Tell them I say hi.”

“Tell them yourself.” Yuta hangs up before Mark speaks again.

“Still favouring him, huh?” Doyoung says with a knowing grin.

“Some people are easier to like than others.” Yuta sticks his tongue out.

Johnny preemptively stands between the two, holding his hands out. His presence fills the tiny cabin. “Let’s save our energy. I have a feeling we’re going to need it, especially if this turns out to be a wild sheep chase.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> もしもし = moshi moshi = hello (over the phone) in Japanese


	6. 05

For the first time in five days of walking, Taeyong sees Jaehyun using a compass and truly wonders if the faction leader knows where the hell he’s going. The trees, farms and villages all begin to look the same. Even the cows and chickens look the same. He turns to Jaehyun.

“If you ask me one more time whether we’re going in the right direction, I will snap your back in half.”

Taeyong closes his mouth, glaring at the man before slinking off, grumbling that he is not that brittle, impulsive asshole.

Jaehyun looks around like he’s trying to regain his bearings, then squints in a direction. Taeyong peeks over his shoulder and sees it pointing northwest. Tall mountains. Laos.

“This way,” Jaehyun says, gesturing for Taeyong to follow. Taeyong feels a tug at their bond when he doesn’t immediately move. He tightens his hold on the straps of his pack.

“I don’t get what the rush is.”

Jaehyun pauses, looking at him like he’s trying to read him. Taeyong stares back defiantly. “What do you know about soulmate bonds?”

“I told you,” Taeyong grumbles, “very little. My family never talked about it, and none of my training involved using the bond. We believed that if we trained ourselves to the best of our ability, we will be able to withstand whatever comes our way.”

“Leaving no room to adapt, grow, or see the connections,” Jaehyun adds, running a hand through his hair. Taeyong thinks the motion is unnecessary. The rise of the bottom of Jaehyun's t-shirt, showing a sliver of flat abs is also unnecessary. Taeyong keeps his thoughts to himself. “Some traditions should be erased.”

Sensing that it is story time, Taeyong walks up beside Jaehyun, eyeing at him expectantly. Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow.

“It’s easiest to break the bond when it’s first formed,” Jaehyun starts. “The bond is short and, for the lack of a better word, unsettled.”

“What do you mean?”

Jaehyun glares at Taeyong for interrupting.

“It’s like a wound. When you meet your soulmate you’re encouraged to spend time together, which explains the limited distance you’re allowed to be from each other. Then, with time and trust, the bond grows stronger and the soulmates are able to move further away. They can also feel each other’s emotions, impulses; they know where the other is without looking.”

“So the fact that I can now walk five to six metres from you,” starts Taeyong.

“Is something I’d rather not think about,” finishes Jaehyun in a clipped tone.

Taeyong swallows thickly, words stuck in his throat. “Right. Okay.”

Jaehyun looks ahead, ducking into a narrow path with a sign pointing upwards.

Taeyong cannot read it. “‘This way up’?” He guesses.

Jaehyun doesn’t glance back. “‘Beware of tigers’.”

“Oh.”

The irony is not lost on Taeyong, who realizes he has more than one tiger to worry about. Then an idea strikes him: Jaehyun has a fighting chance against a tiger. But if he loses and dies, does that mean Taeyong will die too? Feeling even more nervous, they start the trek up the mountain.

The ascent is mostly silent, punctuated with periodical laboured breaths, occasional sniffles and, more than once, taking a break to acclimatize to the altitude. It hits Jaehyun harder than Taeyong, if his pale face, dry lips and slowed motions are anything to go by.

Taeyong takes pity and wordlessly hands over his small jar of tiger balm. Jaehyun takes it with a mutter of thanks, applying the salve under his nose and around his temples, breathing deep breaths to stop his heart from wreaking havoc in his chest.

They walk for an hour, rest for ten minutes, then rinse and repeat.

It’s much colder in the mountains and Taeyong shivers, wrapping his arms around his body to keep his body heat. He and Jaehyun have tugged on their heat-tech sweaters, courtesy of Jaehyun’s pointman, but it does little to protect them from the mountain winds. With each turn of the road, the mist gets thicker and thicker, almost like they are walking through clouds. The lack of visibility sets Taeyong’s stomach on an edge.

“How far does this trek go?” He asks, willing his teeth to stop chattering.

“Another kilometre, according to the last sign we passed. There will be a small valley where we can set up camp.”

“Fire? Before I freeze to death?”

“Alright.”

Taeyong pauses his steps to stare at Jaehyun. Jaehyun feels the stare before their bond stretches taut. He glances back, meeting Taeyong’s unreadable expression with a small frown set on his forehead.

“What?”

“I didn’t think you'd agree.”

Jaehyun’s eyes harden a fraction. He turns back to the path, not waiting to see if Taeyong is following. Taeyong blinks, realizing he must’ve said something wrong. He catches up, searching for the right words to apologize, but Jaehyun speaks first.

“Fire makes logical sense. I would be a terrible leader if I didn’t care for one of my own.”

Taeyong falls silent, a small sense of guilt pooling in his stomach.

Half an hour later they arrive at the valley Jaehyun described. There is a small town that they are careful to avoid, walking for another half an hour out into the wilderness before Jaehyun decides that they have enough coverage, and builds their camp.

Taeyong goes in search of dry bark, sticks and pieces of wood for fire. The sky is cloudy and grey, visibility is low, and the sun is setting. It wouldn’t be long now before they’re shrouded in darkness. He quickens his footsteps- until he feels a tug around his wrist. Oh.

He shoots Jaehyun an apologetic smile before stepping closer.

“Sorry,” he calls.

The fire comes alive after the third try, and Taeyong quickly huddles around it, his teeth chattering up a storm. Jaehyun breaks into another bag of rations, adding the water he filtered from his bottle, then resting the bag above the fire.

“Dinner?”

Taeyong nods, curling into a ball to preserve body heat. “What’s in those?”

Jaehyun opens another pack, pouring some water inside. He places it on Taeyong’s outstretched palms. “Nothing to write home about.”

Taeyong looks inside, gives it a good sniff, and blinks at the unexpected sweetness. He’s definitely eaten worse with SAS. At least this resembles food. When he shares this information with Jaehyun, the latter lets out a short bark of laughter. There’s a charming timbre to his voice when he is not breathing murderous threats into your ear. Go figure.

The crackling of firewood fills the silence around them. Taeyong hums, poking the fire with a stick he found. Jaehyun is looking at a spot in the sky. Taeyong wonders if he believes in zodiacs.

“How did you become one of the nine dragons?” Jaehyun asks.

Taeyong looks surprised at the question. Since when did Jaehyun entertain polite conversation?

“Are you asking me because you want to take down my sect?”

Jaehyun snorts. “I have no interest in sects.”

“Oh, well then.” Taeyong leans back, letting the heat of the fire reach his face and chest. “When I was young, my parents had a divorce. My mum took my sister back to Seoul, while I stayed in Hong Kong with my dad. I didn’t do well in school, made no friends, and had no one to talk to. Even my sister left me. So I started skipping classes.

“I got into fights around the same time. In one of the throwdowns, I was pulled back from beating the shit the other kid. All I remembered was seeing red. The man who pulled me off screamed at me to control my anger, and asked if I had family. He eventually found my father, a policeman, who was on his night shift, handing tickets to hawker stalls. He said I brought shame to the family name by getting into fights, and said he didn’t care what happened to me. The man, Chan see-fu, took that as an invitation to bring me to Kowloon, where his gym was. I’ve trained there ever since.”

Jaehyun blinks. “Kowloon. 九龍. Nine dragons.”

Taeyong nods. “It’s not rocket science. Kowloon was a rich area. There were a lot of international kids who enrolled in the same training program. They had more years in the program, more experience, but I eventually caught up. But even though I was the new kid, no one picked on me. We trained together, studied together. Then, when we had no one else to learn from, we were sent to different parts of the world, fighting in tournaments, exchanging blows until we made a name for ourselves.”

“Bruce Lee’s little nine dragons.”

Taeyong scratches the back of his neck a little shyly. “It didn’t feel that way for me. I was just looking for an escape, and found it in fighting.”

Jaehyun hums softly; a low, contemplative sound. Taeyong shivers.

“Joining the force was my father’s attempt to integrate me back into society. I didn’t graduate high school. I wouldn’t have found a job anywhere else. So I went with it.”

“The SAS training…”

“Graduated out of police academy with top marks. Everyone wanted me, especially the tactical unit. They sent me to train with SAS for a year, then prepared me to take the Special Duties Unit course. But, well, this happened.”

Jaehyun stares at him for a long time.

“What?”

“You look younger than you are.”

“...thanks? I’m turning twenty nine this July.”

Jaehyun continues staring at him, which makes Taeyong feel all sort of discomfort. He turns away and prods the rations packets with his stick. “Are these done?”

“Oh, right.”

The rations, which turn out to be oatmeal with freeze-dried berries, are delicious. Taeyong licks his packet clean. When he’s done, Jaehyun tosses something at him (he really needs to stop doing that). Taeyong catches it in the air, then gives Jaehyun a miffed look.

“Are you testing my peripherals?”

Jaehyun makes a vague sound. The amused glint in his eyes betrays his neutral expression.

“Asshole,” Taeyong sticks his tongue out, then gasps when he realizes he’s holding onto a granola bar. “Oh my god.”

“What flavour is it?” Jaehyun asks, a quirk to the corner of his mouth.

“Squid guts and spider legs.”

“Delicious.”

Taeyong throws his head back and laughs. The flicker of fire reflects off of Jaehyun’s eyes as he smiles.

The fire dwindles to a small flame, flickering unevenly as it consumes the bark and wood below. Taeyong climbs into the tent, muffling a yawn with his hand. He looks up and meets Jaehyun’s eyes, who seems to hesitate, then takes a step back.

“I’ll keep watch.”

With that, he zips the tent up.

Taeyong stares at the black material of the tent for a minute, then pulls inside. He lies on his back, his pack under his head, and stares upwards. Sleep doesn’t come easy. He shivers, rolling to his side, and finds Jaehyun’s pack. No weapons. Just rations, metal cups, spoons, navigation tools and other necessities. In a weak moment, he brings the pack into his arms, hugging it close to his chest. Jaehyun’s smell permeates to his senses as he breathes it in.

He exhales.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

A pause, then Jaehyun replies: “‘May’, and yes.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes, continuing, “Why do you do what you do?”

“...Is this a philosophical question?”

Taeyong snorts, smiling a little. “It can be. But no, I just, well. I wanted to know why you... kill. Flip drugs and arms. What’s in it for you? Why do you do this?”

He hears a rustle from the other side of the tent, and sinks a little deeper into his makeshift pillow.

“It’s good money. There are no laws. Only the best can stay on top. And,”

A shuffle. Taeyong frowns. “And?”

“Killing is a byproduct. I don’t set out to kill people every time,” says Jaehyun in a lowered voice.

Taeyong breathes shallowly, wondering if he should ask his next question. His grip around Jaehyun’s pack tightens a fraction. After a moment, he says: “Do you know your body count?”

“What?”

“The number of people you’ve killed.”

A pause. “No. Do you know yours?”

“One.”

“One hundred? One thousand?”

“No. Just one. How can you not know?”

An awkward pause falls. “Those who live, survive with various degrees of injury. I don’t bother to follow up. This is business, not a hospital.”

The conversation drifts into silence.

Taeyong lets go of Jaehyun’s pack, pushing away and rolling to his side of the tent.

“Why do you do what you do?” Comes the question, quietly, through the material of the tent.

The switch of question and answer throws Taeyong off. He takes a moment to think. “Because there’s nothing else for me, I guess.”

“Then you know what it’s like for me."

“But I’m not breaking the law. I’m not _bad._ I’ve only ever drawn my gun twice on duty, and shot a man once.”

“Good, bad, it’s all perspective. I can blame the Korean government for not taking care of the most vulnerable population. They may be caring for the majority, but what if the majority don’t need as much help to get off their feet? Does that make the government bad?”

“There are faults to every government. But… I agree, those most in need of funding and support are often overlooked. Still, that doesn’t excuse you for turning to illegal trade.”

“A man’s gotta make money.”

“Please. What do you even do with your money?”

“I have a house in Seoul, Sokcho and on Jeju-do, and an apartment in the heart of Manhattan when I want a full change of scenery,” Taeyong makes faces at the roof of the tent, mimicking Jaehyun as he continues his impressive list. “I can afford to travel and explore when I’m done with this song and dance. I’m not in the business forever, but I’m milking it for all it’s worth when I’m in.”

“A business with such high risks is a shit deal,” Taeyong points out snarkily.

“It pays well, and I haven’t been caught.” Jaehyun shrugs. “Think of it this way: we’re basically doing the same job, but for different reasons. The only difference is that the money looks much nicer to me than you.”

Taeyong snorts, miffed. “You make it sound like there is no danger to your job!”

“It’s exactly because I am aware of the dangers, that I know there is an end to this. I’m not going to be old and greying when I quit. But I’m at my prime. This is just the beginning.”

Taeyong scowls at the conviction in Jaehyun’s voice. “How can you be so sure?”

“I make it so.”

“That arrogance is going to get you killed one day!"

“Then it would’ve gotten me killed years ago. Rather than arrogance, hesitation is more likely to get me killed,” Jaehyun exhales, standing to his feet. Taeyong watches his shadow pace to the side of the tent and pulls back, heart racing in his chest. "I don’t do anything half measure, Lee Taeyong.”

The drop in Jaehyun’s voice sends an involuntary shiver down his spine. Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling quietly. “No,” he says, voice just above a whisper. “I didn’t think so.”


	7. 06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who are staying indoors as much as possible to prevent the spread of COVID-19, we got this! ٩(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و
> 
> Thank you to all those who commented, left kudos, bookmarked, subscribed etc. ♡ Hope y'all take care, practice good hygiene and find happy things in these strange times. This update is for you ♡♡♡

“So, are you seeing anyone?”

A scoff. “Do criminals routinely date where you come from?”

“I wouldn’t know. I guess not.”

“Why the sudden interest in my personal life?”

“Because we’re bonded,” Taeyong replies easily, leaping over a frozen puddle. “I want to know you better.”

Jaehyun sends an exasperated eye-roll through their bond. It makes Taeyong smile.

“I haven’t, you know. For a long time. My coworkers tried to set me up with the young female police officers, but those never went anywhere.” Taeyong frowns. “They sure were persistent though.”

“Forcing you on dates?”

“No, when the woman asks for a second date.”

Jaehyun pauses mid-step to look back at him, and Taeyong almost runs into his back. Taeyong wants to make a protest, but Jaehyun speaks first.

“You’re not that hot a catch.”

Jaehyun resumes walking, and a loudly sputtering Taeyong follows, not a stride three metres behind.

They reach base camp of the second mountain range when Taeyong shows first signs of symptoms. A light cough. A bit of throat-clearing. When Jaehyun asks, Taeyong brushes it off with a small easy smile. But that night, after they’ve set up camp and built the fire, Taeyong bends over and coughs for about a minute straight.

“It’s the smoke. I inhaled it at the wrong time.”

Jaehyun frowns, taking a step forward. Taeyong takes two steps back.

“I’ll be fine,” Taeyong reassures weakly, followed by a wince of a smile.

It’s unconvincing, but Jaehyun doesn’t push.

They sit around the fire, eating rations (gruel this time, with some kind of meat that makes Jaehyun want to gag) and sharing small talk between bites. Jaehyun watches sweat form on Taeyong’s forehead, knowing that it has nothing to do with the heat from the fire, and makes up his mind. He waits for Taeyong to finish his food, disposes the rations pack, before reining in the bond with every step he takes. “Wash up.”

Taeyong blinks, sniffing quietly. His cheeks are too red to be normal. Jaehyun’s frown deepens. Taeyong stares at him for a moment, and Jaehyun knows he wants to argue. But at last, he looks away, taking out his toothbrush and toothpaste and begins to brush his teeth. Jaehyun does the same.

Taeyong returns to the tent to put his things away. Jaehyun watches him like a hawk.

Finally, Taeyong turns to Jaehyun with something like exasperated irritation in his eyes. He crosses his arms, defiant. “I’m fine, really.”

The minute of coughing that follows has Jaehyun raising an eyebrow. Taeyong eventually looks up, the corners of his eyes are brimmed with tears.

“Go in.” Jaehyun orders. “I’ll take watch.”

“But it’s my turn.”

“You’re in no condition.”

Taeyong scowls petulantly. “That’s not true.”

“Would you report for duty when you know you are not feeling your best?”

“My best is not always necessary for duty!”

“That’s not a no. Nature is far more cruel than duty, so are the wanted posters for my head.” Jaehyun levels Taeyong with a pointed look. “Stop acting like a child and get your beauty sleep. Either that or I knock you out. Your choice.”

“Beauty sleep!” Taeyong protests, but slows down and considers Jaehyun’s words. “Wait, if I get knocked out, I might even stop coughing.” It earns him a smart slap up the side of his head. “Ow!”

Jaehyun nods at the tent, and Taeyong crawls in with a sulky pout that makes him look even younger, especially those pink lips. But the tension that is normally around his eyes are absent. He almost looks relaxed, if not for the tired rings under his eyes. Jaehyun feels a strange urgency to protect him. He quashes it down.

“Good night,” Taeyong mumbles. He yawns softly, then zips the tent up.

Jaehyun listens for the rustles to settle, then counts to a hundred. Soft snores.

Jaehyun reaches into his bag, digs into the hidden compartment, peels back the tape and fishes out the cellphone. He walks as far as he can- he estimates eight metres- and dials a well-memorized number.

When the call picks up, he recites through grit teeth, “Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, but not as sweet as you.”

“Nice to hear from you too, boss.” He can hear the smirk plastered on Jun’s face.

“I’m getting rid of this ridiculous code when this is over,” he growls.

“Min would be devastated,” Jun teases. “Wouldn’t you, Min?”

Jaehyun has no doubt they’re making faces at each other. He rolls his eyes. “Min will deal.”

There is some shuffling, then he hears No’s voice, “You’ve been out for eight days. Where are you?”

“Hm.”

“Did you get lost?”

“No. I know where I am. Exact coordinates unknown. There’s something I need your help with.”

“Name it.”

Jaehyun glances back at the tent where there is no movement, and describes the place as best as he can remember. “It should be on or near the border of Laos and southern tip of Yunan.”

“And you said you were near…”

“Outskirts of Muang Xai.”

“West or East?”

“West, by about two hours.”

Min whistles. “I’m surprised there is cell service.”

“Jun’s magic,” Jaehyun explains, knowing that Jun is working his magic again as they speak. Information is not easy to come by in 1997. If only there was a device that had all the answers to the world, one that knew where you were and displayed a map of your location in real-time. Unfortunately, that’s just not the case.

“Got it,” Jun’s voice exclaims into the receiver. More rustling. “You are about a day’s walk away. Keep following the road. It’ll take you there.”

“Twenty four hours?”

“Likely less, but I don’t know your exact coordinates.”

One more day of walking. “Thanks, Jun.”

Jaehyun is about to hang up when he hears Jun interjecting, “Wait, boss-”

“Yes?”

“How is Mr. Pretty Policeman?”

It’s meant as a tease, but something in Jaehyun’s stomach twists uncomfortably. He thinks about their bond, how it’s gotten strong enough that Jaehyun feels the fluctuations of Taeyong’s emotions, and that they can stand to be further apart. They’re developments he’d rather not share.

“Hello? Did the call drop-”

“I’m here. And he’s fine.”

“Still stuck together, huh?” No comments.

Jaehyun hums vaguely, walking back to the tent. “Take care of each other.”

“You too, boss.”

The line cuts. Jaehyun secures the phone back into its hiding place, and watches the fire for another half an hour before stomping it out. He then climbs into the tent.

Taeyong, who normally starfishes the tent, has curled on his side facing outward. His form is so small it makes Jaehyun’s chest tighten a little. He ignores it, and quietly puts his pack down. It wakes Taeyong anyway.

“Jae?” He asks, a soft, bleary sound if not for the croak in the middle. An involuntary shiver runs up Jaehyun’s spine.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Mm.”

Taeyong curls back into a ball. Jaehyun sighs, taking off his sweater and laying it over Taeyong’s prone form. He lies on the empty side, resting his head on his arm. Their backs are almost touching. Jaehyun exhales, and feels the warmth emanating from Taeyong. Most likely a fever.

The bond around his wrist hums quietly, a slow, pulsing warmth. It’s almost like it knows the proximity between its owners. Jaehyun raises his hand and looks at his wrist for a moment, before sighing and going to sleep.

When Jaehyun wakes up, he feels a warm line of a person pressed along his back, an arm around his waist and freezes.

“Policeman.”

No response.

“Lee.”

Still nothing.

“Taeyong,” he hisses a little louder.

“Mm?”

Hoping that rousing Taeyong from his sleep will make him realize their entanglement, Jaehyun waits. But that doesn’t happen. Taeyong just buries his face more firmly into Jaehyun’s side, nuzzling his cheek on his shoulder, and goes back to sleep.

“Get up,” Jaehyun growls.

“But you’re warm,” comes the breathy whine.

Jaehyun’s stomach drops.

Taeyong rubs his eyes and slowly shifts into a leaning position. “Haha, got you.”

“Did not,” Jaehyun mutters darkly.

“But I felt-”

“Get ready. We’ll be leaving soon.” He quickly climbs to his feet and leaves the tent, ignoring Taeyong’s soft, rumbly protests. His heart races in his chest, and he can feel the tips of his ears turn bright red. He hasn’t- there hasn’t-

It’s not important.

Taeyong emerges from the tent with some brightness back in his eyes. Jaehyun counts that as a sacrificial win. After a short moment of washing and packing up, they’re back on the road. The clouds hang even lower today. Beyond them, the sky is grey and the winds are fierce. Taeyong’s coughing racks up.

Jaehyun grits his teeth and trudges on.


	8. 07

It’s dusk when they arrive. Taeyong, winded and sweating more than before, looks surprised. It’s a one-storied wooden structure that stretches back, with cabins on either side and shrouded by mist. The sign on the front is lopsided and labelled in a few different languages. Taeyong recognizes some Chinese characters.

“A bed and breakfast?”

Jaehyun nods, walking up the pebbled path. A tortoiseshell cat greets them by the front, the bells on its collar ringing a crisp sound in the mist. Jaehyun crouches down, letting the cat sniff his hand. The cat makes a short, loud squawk, like deeming Jaehyun worthy, before slinking around Jaehyun's ankles. Taeyong is flabbergasted.

“Are there new customers?” An old woman emerges from the house. She is short, with wiry white hair pulled into a bun atop her head. Her eyes are a startling gold, her pupils crystal grey.

“Yes ma’am,” Jaehyun replies. “A room for two please.”

Taeyong’s eyebrows go up.

“I think I recognize your voice. You’re the singer, right? It’s good to have you back!” The old woman grins, waving them into the main house. They duck into the home that smells like fresh pine trees and something earthy. She rustles behind the desk for a long time before procuring a set of keys. “Lucky for you there are no others this time of the year. You can take Cabin 7 just down the hall. It has the nicest view.”

The mist is so thick that any view would be covered. It must've been a joke, because she bends back in booming laughter just as Jaehyun chuckles lightly, his eyes crescents and the corners crinkling.

“Thank you.” Jaehyun smiles, taking the key.

“Pay when you leave, it’s easier for me to keep count this way,” The woman insists. “I hope you don’t have too much luggage with you? My arms have gotten a little weak with old age.”

Still smiling, Jaehyun shakes his head. “Don’t worry, we’re travelling light.”

“Great! I will be at the front desk if you need anything. Hope you have a pleasant stay!”

Jaehyun nods, turning to the furthest cabin. He feels Taeyong’s eyes on him, a hundred questions on the tip of his tongue and unbridled curiosity through their bond.

“Yes?”

“She’s visually impaired.” Taeyong whispers.

Jaehyun nods. “Glaucoma, if I remember correctly.”

“No wonder why you decided to stay here. It’d be hard to describe a criminal if asked.”

Jaehyun says nothing.

Unlocking the door, he steps into the room. The cabin is big. Over twice the size of Taeyong’s apartment in Hong Kong. There is a huge bed in the middle of the room, a small kitchen and dining area, a fully stocked mini fridge and a gigantic bathroom. Taeyong gasps at the sight, then drowns in a fit of coughs. Jaehyun wrinkles his nose. “That better not be contagious.”

“That’s,” coughing, “not nice! What were the-” more coughing, “vows again? In sickness and health or some shit like that?”

Jaehyun tries to suppress the blush on his cheeks. As a diversion, he throws a fluffy towel at Taeyong’s face. It lobs over Taeyong’s hair like a pair of bunny ears which... does not help. “There’s a bathroom to your right. Be quick. Don’t use up all the hot water.”

That shuts Taeyong up real quick. He gathers his pack, getting excited about hot water and clean underwear while skipping to the bathroom which is why he nearly slips, inches from cracking his skull on the corner of the bed, but rights himself in time.

Jaehyun pulls back his outstretched hands. His expression looks a cross between disgruntled and unnatural fondness. His hands ball into fists instead. “Some peace and quiet Taeyong, is that too much to ask?”

Taeyong scrunches his nose. “Says the blood-thirsty killer who threw a switch blade at my head.”

Jaehyun shoots him a cool glare. “I can throw another.”

“What did I say! Blood-thirsty killer.”

“Pipsqueak policeman.”

“Arrogant ass!”

“Prissy princess.”

“Prissy! Have you seen yourself in the mirror?”

“Not nearly as much as you have in the past five minutes of being inside a room with a mirror.”

“I-” Taeyong stammers, blushing bright red. “Creep!”

“Whiny,” says Jaehyun in a manner that suggested, if Taeyong wanted to continue, he could do this all day.

They glare at each other for a long time, but Taeyong realizes this is eating into his time with the bathroom. He peers in. Goodness, it even has a bathtub. A _giant_ bathtub. With a pointed look at Jaehyun that clearly says this is not over, Taeyong stomps into the bathroom.

Taeyong looks through the bottles and finds, with delight, a strawberry bubble bath. He hasn’t taken a bath in a decade, probably longer. But under these strange circumstances, in addition to the threat of a life or death fight at the end, he will take advantage of these indulgences. The more ridiculous, the better.

He draws a bath, the steam filling the bathroom and making it easier to breathe. He breathes, coughs, breathes a little deeper, and sighs his life away. As he waits for the tub to fill, he starts hand-washing his underwear in the sink, hanging them on various surfaces around the bathroom to dry. Some time later, he dumps a generous amount of bubble bath in, watching the foam grow bigger and thicker, floating on top of the water like a wobbly lid. He sinks his hand into the warm water and giggles, then catches himself. Hell, he must be losing his mind after spending so long with an impulsive, blood-thirsty, ruthless _(handsome)_ killer.

God. What is wrong with him?

He shakes his head.

When he dips his feet into the warmer than advised water, he shudders, groans, and slips in completely. The bubbles are pink and strawberry scented; he’s never felt more ridiculous, more pampered in his life. This is almost worth being kidnapped-

No, he shouldn’t think this way. He knows the other dragons are looking for him. He just needs to believe they’ll find him before, well, before everything else happens. Even if they don’t, he has to believe in himself that he can fight his way out of it. He’s not going to be another one who dies at the hands of Jaehyun- no, _Seu_.

He curls into a ball, submerging half of his head into the water.

It hasn’t been bad. Not at all. He just needs to escape from this and go back to Hong Kong. Keep living his life, make it to the SDU team-

_Knock knock._

Taeyong jumps, bursting through the bubbles with wide eyes just as Jaehyun peeks his head inside. Taeyong yelps, pulling the bubbles around him like an attempt at decency. More bubbles serenely fill the empty surface.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking!” He shrieks, cheeks turning bright red.

“I did. You were taking too long.” Jaehyun pauses at the sight, then sniffs the air once and frowns. “...is that a strawberry bubble bath?”

Miffed, Taeyong turns his nose up and shoots Jaehyun a haughty glare. “So what if it is?”

“I was wondering why you didn’t refute the princess part.” The smug look in Jaehyun's eyes makes Taeyong want to smack his face, or kiss it. _Hold on-_

“Well I’ve used it all up,” he lies. In a rush of childish banter, he sticks his tongue out, harrumphs, then turns away. “Now get lost. I was enjoying myself until you barged in like the uncouth _oh my god what are you doing-_ ”

“Enjoying myself, obviously.”

The water overflows, spilling pink bubbles and strawberry scented water over the edge as Jaehyun settles across from Taeyong.

“Ever heard of boundaries?” He growls, shooting Jaehyun a scathing look.

Jaehyun grins back toothily. “What’s that?”

Before Taeyong can answer, Jaehyun ducks his head in the water and rises like a goddamn model. There’s a peek of black ink across his chest that holds Taeyong’s immediate interest until he catches himself and blanches in internal horror. Unknown to Taeyong’s inner turmoil, Jaehyun stretches out like a king, and Taeyong really wonders if this man has ever considered a modelling or acting career. (If only he wasn’t, you know, also an illegal trader and mass murderer.)

Taeyong shifts to be directly across from Jaehyun, putting as much space between them as possible. The lid of bubbles wobble precariously, threatening to spill again.

“You were in here for almost an hour. I told you to keep it short.” Jaehyun explains conversationally. “Plus, there is no hogging of strawberry bubble baths under my household.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes, resuming his washing and _definitely not looking_ in Jaehyun’s direction. “It’s a fucking bed and breakfast.”

“On my dime,” Jaehyun adds with a wink. “Therefore my household.”

“Totalitarian. Whoever ends up with you must be masochistic or absolutely miserable.” Silence drags on as Taeyong meets Jaehyun’s eyes, which twinkling darkly as he shoots Taeyong a look, challenging him to continue. Naturally, Taeyong continues, “Explains my mood these days."

A pause ensues. Then Taeyong laughs, and the corners of Jaehyun’s mouth quirks into the slightest hint of a genuine smile.

_Dimples. Oh dear._

Taeyong makes a garbled sound and submerges back into the water, blowing bubbles like a teenager with a fat crush. Jaehyun shoots him a look and asks him if he’s okay.

“This is so weird.” Taeyong mutters, ducking his head and threatening to inhale bath water. It must've become warmer or something, because he’s feeling light-headed all of a sudden.

“Never bathed with other men before?”

Taeyong does a double take. “Do you routinely bathe with other men? As in, more than one?”

Jaehyun shrugs. “I’ve probably done more questionable things that you can’t even think of.”

“No kidding,” Taeyong mutters dryly.

“Pass the shampoo.”

Taeyong tosses it without much power, and it lands somewhere between them. They watch it coast slowly, through the pink bubbles, to Jaehyun’s outstretched hand.

“That was almost cinematic,” Jaehyun drawls. He flicks the bubbles off the bottle before squeezing a dollop out. “So, what’s weird?”

“I don’t know. Basically everything leading up to this point. So much has happened since we first met at the restaurant.”

“Are you getting nostalgic on me? We only met ten days ago.”

“Yet you’re in my bubble bath.”

“Touché,” Jaehyun pauses, rinsing the suds out of his hair. Taeyong tries valiantly not to stare. Suddenly, Jaehyun stands up and Taeyong almost gives himself whiplash from looking away so quickly.

“Dude. Give a guy some warning!”

“It’s nothing you don’t have, or haven’t seen,” states Jaehyun, as though Taeyong sees peters day in and out. Jaehyun settles back into the water, and only then does Taeyong look over. Jaehyun is holding onto a small towel; he is also frowning at Taeyong. “Have you never been to a bathhouse?”

“The idea of communal showers and hot tubs do not sound attractive,” Taeyong replies, feeling a mix of embarrassment and irritation.

“Oh,” Jaehyun says, looking unexpectedly forlorn.

Taeyong takes a look at the towel in Jaehyun's hands. “Were you going to ask me to scrub your back?”

Jaehyun shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “It’s fine, I wouldn’t want to break your fragile masculinity.”

Something flares inside Taeyong’s stomach. “I don’t have a fragile masculinity!”

“Don’t worry, really, I can scrub my own back-”

“Seriously?”

“It’s totally cool. I’ll just-”

“Just pass the god damn towel.”

Jaehyun turns his back to Taeyong, hiding his victorious smirk that is still visible from Taeyong's point of view. He doesn’t even threaten Taeyong, they both know the consequences if Taeyong pulls a quick one right now.

But, as Taeyong dips the towel in the water and begins scrubbing Jaehyun’s back, watching the grime and dirt wash away with the warm soapy water, he comes to the realization that he doesn’t want to kill the other man. He might want to hurt him, or kidnap him the same way he was kidnapped, without consent and thrown around like a sack of potatoes to float all the way to Vietnam. But killing? That intent has all but disappeared.

It should be shocking, but it isn’t. For all the monstrosity that Jaehyun is, he displays even stronger qualities of being human.

“You’ve been scrubbing the same place for a while now.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Taeyong says. The skin of Jaehyun’s back turns a bit red from the scrubbing, but is otherwise. Er-

Wow.

“A tiger? Really?”

Taeyong has completely forgotten about the tattoo. But now that he’s positioned right behind Jaehyun’s broad, naked back, he sees the tattoo. It looks poise, regal, climbing up a shrubbery path. Its eyes are home to a dark wisdom; assertive, commanding. Taeyong struggles to tear his eyes away.

Jaehyun scoffs. “Says the person with a dragon on his back.”

Not knowing what to say, Taeyong grumbles unintelligibly and scrubs within an inch of Jaehyun’s life.

At the end, instead of the complaint Taeyong expected, Jaehyun looks satisfied and even gives a genuine thanks. Taeyong is mollified.

“Is this a thing in Korea? Back scrubbing?”

“It's one of those cultural things,” replies Jaehyun with a shrug.

It is then that Taeyong realizes, the bubbles have been popping, there’s hardly any left to cover-

“Is there some deep-seated homophobia that you want to talk about?”

“The opposite, actually,” comes the response. Taeyong doesn’t even recognize his own voice. Jaehyun looks over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow. Taeyong looks at him a little helplessly, then his words catch up to him and he scrambles back to the other side of the tub. “I, um.”

A strange silence settles between them.

“I’m going to rinse off in the shower now,” says Jaehyun slowly.

Taeyong ducks his head, staring at his feet while he hears Jaehyun stand up and stride to the shower. He keeps his head ducked when the shower turns off, only registering the sound of a towel sliding off the hanger. He doesn’t look up until he is alone in the bathroom.

His heart wreaks havoc in his chest, his ears echoes the pounding, and his eyes see pink.

(Hint: it’s not the bubble bath.)


	9. 08

Taeyong emerges from the bathroom with a towel around his waist and hesitation to his steps. Jaehyun is sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and flipping channels on the television. Taeyong pauses, the knot in his stomach tightening.

Jaehyun meets his eyes. They stare at each other for a long moment.

Taeyong shakes his head, letting out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

The answer comes immediately. "No."

Taeyong is taken back. Of all the responses, he doesn’t expect this.

Jaehyun seems to be measuring his words inside his head, because he takes a while to reply. Finally, in a steady voice, he says: “I like men too,” like it’s a very simple thing.

To a faction leader, that might be the case. Jaehyun plays to the rules he makes. He’s not subjected to questions, the scrutiny of why he’s almost 30 and still single. He isn’t forced to work with people who make crude jokes about not trapping a woman to start a family. All of which is a far cry from Taeyong’s own experiences.

But for the faction leader to admit this is… nice. It's almost like he cares.

Taeyong smiles ruefully. “Thanks.”

Jaehyun grunts in response, dispelling the tension. He looks a little conflicted before adding, “By the way."

“Hm?”

“This is a bed and breakfast. They have laundry machines.”

Taeyong remembers the mess of boxer briefs across the bathroom and blushes bright red. “Ah. Ha. Right. Well, too late for that.” He clears his throat. “So. Are we taking off tomorrow morning?”

“Actually, we’ll be staying for a few days.”

Jaehyun nods his head towards the TV, and Taeyong follows his gaze.

Snow. A few inches of snow is expected to fall in the next two days. But it’s not the snow that makes Taeyong frown, it’s the temperature. The weather network predicts the temperature to stay in the negatives for the next week.

Taeyong bites his lip. “Did you know about this?”

“I didn’t,” Jaehyun admits. He stands, brushing the curtains aside to peer out the window. Though it is dark out, the white outline of trees stand outside the window, with occasional puffs of grey clouds in the distance. “There’s no way we’d survive those temperatures with the clothes we have. Best to stay put until it’s warm again.”

Taeyong nods. “Lucky we found our way here, huh?”

Jaehyun hums.

They stare out the window for a while, each in their thoughts.

Taeyong feels his stomach tighten as a breeze of disappointment echoes through their bond. “How much longer do we have to go before we get to… wherever we need to go?”

Jaehyun shrugs, settling on the bed. The tattoo across his back moves with his muscles. Taeyong looks away. “Hard to say,” Jaehyun answers. “I haven’t walked these roads in a while. A lot has changed.” Taeyong rounds to the other side of the bed, digging in his pack. Then he pulls on his last pair of clean boxers and sweatpants, steals a pillow from the bed and settles on the sofa. Jaehyun watches him. “You can take the bed.”

Taeyong smiles wryly, shaking his head. “No thanks. If you were staking claim to a bubble bath, I can’t imagine taking the bed from you.”

“We shared a tent for ten days. This is a king sized bed.”

Taeyong narrows his eyes, ignoring the way his stomach twists nervously. “What are you trying to say?”

Jaehyun shrugs. “Let’s share the bed.”

“Why?”

“It’s more comfortable.”

“Why did you come into the bathroom?”

Jaehyun pauses, eyes flicking down Taeyong’s cheek, chin, to his exposed neck. Then he glances back up to meet Taeyong’s eyes. A pulse of something dark hums through their bond. Taeyong’s eyes widen. “Was that the answer you were looking for?”

Taeyong exhales slowly. “You don’t even mean it.”

“I’ve done more for a lot less reason.”

“Jaehyun.”

They stare at each other for a moment longer, before the corners of Jaehyun’s lips quirk up. “You’re right, I don’t mean it. Take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Taeyong shakes his head, his heart speeding up in his chest. “It’s fine. I’m good here.”

“Lee Taeyong.”

Taeyong feels their bond thrum, and squeezes his eyes closed. “It’s unfair how you can manipulate it so easily,” he says, voice shaking slightly. “How do you do it?”

Jaehyun glances away, the muscles in his jaw clenching. He sighs. “When I was in Chiang Mai, I trained under a bonded pair. They focused on balancing soul with mind and body. They drew balance and strength from within. It was innate, and made them more powerful.” Jaehyun smiles grimly. “I didn’t understand it at first: that even without a physical partner, the connection still existed. Plus, I had no soulmate, didn’t think I needed it. More than once I challenged them to fight only to lose, and badly. It took me a year to understand that they weren’t speaking out of their asses.”

Taeyong scoffs at his arrogance. “This is starting to sound more and more like voodoo magic,” he says.

“It does, until you experience it.” Jaehyun shrugs, glancing over. “You already have the added benefit of being bonded to someone. Well, the beginning stages of it. When I trained with them, there was only half.”

“Did you ever master their teachings?”

“Eventually.” Jaehyun sighs. “So, I’ve always been aware of my half of the bond, which is probably why it’s easier for me to manipulate it.“

Taeyong wonders about the times he thought the bond tugged and called to him. Why he felt very little from Jaehyun in return. How much Jaehyun feels through their bond right now. A lump grows in his throat. He shakes his head, tucking away the thought.

Someone’s stomach grumbles.

“On that note, how much of the rations do we have left?” Taeyong looks interestingly at Jaehyun’s pack.

“For the last time, this is a bed and breakfast. There's a cafeteria in the main hall.”

“Oh,” says Taeyong, feeling his mood lifting. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Taeyong eyes flit over the self-serve food area and wrinkles his nose. “Porridge?”

Jaehyun shrugs. “What part of bed and _breakfast_ did you not understand?”

“I didn’t think you meant that literally!” Taeyong complains.

“You’re sick, porridge is good for you. Eat up.”

“But if I wanted porridge I’d rather the strawberry oatmeal ration pack-”

“We ran out. It's either porridge or nothing. Your choice.” Jaehyun shoves a bowl into Taeyong’s hands none too gently, nudging him forward.

A protest forms at the tip of Taeyong’s tongue, but he holds it back. With a short huff, he scoops a healthy serving of warm chicken porridge, green onions and half a salted egg into his bowl, then pouts all the way to the table. Jaehyun settles in the seat across from him, handing over a spoon. Taeyong grumbles a thanks, and they start their meal in silence.

Taeyong takes a few bites. It’s not bad. In fact, it’s what Taeyong’s body wants right now, because his stomach groans in a _Gods above I needed this yesterday_ type of way, and Taeyong ducks his head to hide his bright red face. Jaehyun bites back a knowing smirk. Taeyong reaches the bottom of his bowl before Jaehyun does, who is blowing on the steam and chewing every morsel of food before swallowing. Taeyong rolls his eyes.

“I’m going for seconds.”

“Hm.”

Taeyong helps himself to another bowl, then pauses in front of the table, staring a little.

In plain clothes and eating a bowl of porridge, Jaehyun looks normal. Common, even. It's nothing like the ruthless mass murderer with a file so thick it could be used as paperweight. Besides that title, he is also a thoughtful leader, competent strategist, and manipulative bather. Taeyong scowls at the last observation.

“Stop staring, it’s rude,” says Jaehun without lifting his head.

Taeyong jumps, his scowl deepens. “Stop reading my thoughts, it's creepy.”

Another pause.

“Just because we’re in a bed and breakfast where the owner can’t see doesn’t mean I’m going to kill you tonight.”

“Gah, get out of my head!”

“Get out of mine first, soulmate.”

Taeyong freezes. Jaehyun says it so casually, like they're talking about the weather. Taeyong on the other hand stammers a little because, well, _soulmate. What the hell!_ As though realizing his internal turmoil, Jaehyun rolls his eyes, kicking Taeyong's chair out. Taeyong eventually calms down enough to sit. “That is so not normal.”

“I’m a bad guy. You’re a cop. We’re bonded. None of this is normal.”

Taeyong opens his mouth, closes it, and wordlessly stares at his porridge with a weird sadness. His eyes are extra big, with a bit of wetness around the corners. Jaehyun sighs explosively. “What now?”

“You’re going to kill me when we break this bond,” mumbles Taeyong.

“Finish your food and maybe I won’t.” Jaehyun narrows his eyes. “And don’t use tears on me. I know you’re lying.”

Taeyong tch’s, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms testily. “How could you tell?”

Jaehyun snorts. “We’re _bonded_. I can feel things through it.”

Taeyong wrinkles his nose. "That's so not nice and civilized. But okay. Teach me how to throw my shields up.”

“Throwing shields? What are you, a Star Trek fan?”

Taeyong looks a little abashed. “I may or may not have watched The Original Series on VHS a few weeks ago.”

“...nerd.”

“Hey I resent that!-” Taeyong throws his arms up in protest, but feels the bond tug. Well, it’s just his right arm, but his left arm follows suit anyway.

“I’ll teach you if you shut up and eat the rest of your food in silence.”

Taeyong shuts up pretty quickly after that.

They make their way back into the cabin, and there's an uncharacteristically light bounce to Taeyong’s step. He hasn’t trained in something so unknown before, and it’s making him feel a mix of excitement and anticipation. Anything to keep the creepy murderer out of his head is worth trying.

Jaehyun looks around their room, and settles on the spacious wooden floor. His legs cross into a lotus position. “The goal is to learn to control thoughts and impulses, so that they do not escape into the bond.”

Taeyong nods, copying his posture. “Like this creepy mind-reading thing you do.”

“No more than thinking about a blood-thirsty murder in a sexual way-”

“Shut up shut up shut up!-”

Jaehyun scoffs. “It is easier when you are honest with yourself.”

There is another pause. This time it is heavy with implications. Taeyong looks away, instinctively crossing his arms.

“I’m not sleeping with you. We’re enemies.”

“I’m cool with hate-fucking.”

“Well I’m not!”

“Your loss.” Taeyong opens his mouth to protest, but Jaehyun continues, “As I said, this is a lesson on control. Close your eyes. Feel the bond. It shouldn’t be hard; you’ve done it before.”

Taeyong shoots Jaehyun a dirty look before settling again. He inhales, exhales, and follows Jaehyun’s instructions.

_Oh._

Jaehyun was right. Taeyong can feel the golden warmth pulsing in his chest, around his wrist. The action is almost instinctive, like he's done it a thousand times. But how?

Like last time, he pokes around the bond with his mind. It responds with a low hum of familiarity. The gold around him pulls into threads. Strong, in control, unyielding. Is this him? Or is this Jaehyun?

“...I see you’re already there.”

“Is that you?”

Jaehyun deigns to reply. “Try to find its source. It’ll lead to where you balance from.”

“Is it different for you?”

“It could be, but I can’t tell with words where you should feel. Now stop talking.”

Taeyong feels a warning pinch from the bond. He pulls a face, but folds into the threads of gold again. He reaches a hand, brushing against the thrum of energy, gently following where it leads. He floats lower and lower, to somewhere above his abdomen- his core. Then a powerful, subdued burst of energy surrounds him. _Whoa._

It feels strange, how he’s never noticed it before, but it’s very much there.

“Don’t force anything. Let it come to you,” guides Jaehyun.

Taeyong feels the gold tendrils thicken to ribbons, enveloping him. Suddenly, the gold spins into a form, muscular, towering. A beast. Long canines, fearless aura, untamed eyes. Taeyong forgets to breathe. It levels Taeyong with a glare. Without warning, it bares its teeth and leaps at Taeyong. Taeyong gasps, leaping back from the bond until Jaehyun’s steady voice stops him.

“Taeyong!”

Taeyong’s eyes shoot open. He vaguely registers Jaehyun’s frowning face, but his mind is blank, unable to focus. He wheezes, the imprint of the beast still burning brightly in his mind. He’s scared to blink.

“Breathe.”

A warm hand brushes calming patterns down Taeyong's back. He takes a gulp of breath. And then another. And another.

“Jesus. What was that.”

“Training rarely goes successfully the first time around. You should know this.”

Taeyong looks up to see a small twitch tugging at the corner of Jaehyun’s mouth. He scowls further. “Yeah, I was also unaware of the fucking consequences. What the hell was that?”

The teasing light disappears quickly. Jaehyun takes a step back, hunching his shoulders. “I’m not a mind reader. Tell me what you saw.”

“I saw gold at first. Strands of gold all around me like I’m trapped inside a cocoon. But it wasn’t silk. It felt like … energy. Then I saw a beast or something, it leapt up, attacking me. Am I making sense?” Jaehyun studies him for a long moment like he knows something. Taeyong frowns. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. You must know something.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I’ve never experienced that in my training.”

“Then how was it for you?”

“It took me a lot longer to find my core, first of all.” Jaehyun admits with difficulty. Taeyong smirks. “I did that for you, ungrateful twerp.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “You can’t be that much older than me, but by all means play the age card, old man.”

“Did you say your birthday was in July?” Taeyong nods. “Five months, then.”

Taeyong pulls a disbelieving face.

“What, can’t imagine someone as young as me to have such a big empire?”

“No, well, you totally come off as an old geezer.”

“Geezer!?”

“Like, at the very least, forty years old or something.”

Then Jaehyun catches the amused glint to Taeyong’s eyes, and balls a hand into a fist. “Let’s play a game. A game of face versus fist to find out which is stronger. I’ll do fist.”

Taeyong laughs nervously, taking steps back until his legs hit the couch. “No thanks. I’d rather not break your fist, which would break mine since we’re bonded and all.”

Jaehyun scoffs. “Big words coming from a prissy princess.”

“This prissy princess has won every fight he’s ever been in, mindless murderer.”

“This mindless murderer lost count of the lives he’s taken.”

“You don’t scare me,” Taeyong says, with fire in his eyes.

“You should be scared,” raises Jaehyun, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not!”

“Oh? Then why do you jump when I do this?”

Jaehyun suddenly stands up, and Taeyong jumps a foot in the air.

Damn his reflexes.

The shit-eating grin on Jaehyun's face is enough to tick Taeyong off, who suddenly throws his entire weight on Jaehyun. Jaehyun anticipates this and takes a small step back, thrusting a palm against Taeyong’s middle with half of his force. Warmth blooms where his palm connects. Taeyong ignores it, quickly regaining footing, and throws a series of punches at Jaehyun. Jaehyun blocks them with the sides of his palm with ease, so Taeyong changes tactics.

He quickly turns, winding for a kick, but Jaehyun is prepared and catches his foot with a hand. He pulls Taeyong closer, almost tipping him off balance. More heat blooms from their point of contact. Taeyong tries to ignore it, but the string around his wrist hums delightfully, as though mocking him of his predicament.

Taeyong’s nostrils flare. He falls to his arms, twisting his body to kick-switch his foot out of Jaehyun’s grip, and stumbles two paces away.

“Why are you so far away? I’m starting to miss you,” Jaehyun drawls, a haughty smirk playing at his lips. Taeyong scowls. “Weren’t you the one clinging to me in the mornings?”

Taeyong growls, taking two steps forward, landing a hit squarely on Jaehyun’s cheek. The impact hits Taeyong’s face equally, and he is momentarily stunned. Jaehyun takes the split second of hesitation to kick Taeyong’s feet, throwing him to his back. He pins Taeyong’s arms above his head, his hips firmly to the floor. Bursts of delicious warmth hit the pit of Taeyong’s abdomen, right where his core is, and it knocks the wind out of his lungs.

Taeyong gapes. “Get. Off. You fucking fatass!”

“I will have you know that my ass is perfect; not an inch of excess fat,” Jaehyun frowns when he sees the bruise form on Taeyong’s skin. “Look what you’ve done to us.”

Taeyong snaps. “As if you’re one to talk. You could’ve cracked my ribs!”

“Then I would’ve killed us. I’m not-”

“A mindless murderer? Bullshit. No one will believe that. I’m still alive because we’re bonded. You’d kill me the first chance you get after we break the bond!”

Taeyong tries to throw Jaehyun off, but Jaehyun flattens his body more firmly over Taeyong’s hips and legs, immobilizing him. Taeyong snarls in frustration. Above, Jaehyun pins Taeyong with a dark look of warning.

“Don’t give me ideas, Mr. Policeman.” Jaehyun's voice rumbles low and dangerous. It sends a shiver down Taeyong's spine. Jaehyun’s eyes slowly sharpen to liquid gold, fierce and unyielding. The string around his wrist heats up. Taeyong feels desperate. He's never been pinned down before. _Fuck._

“Get off of me!”

“No."

“You-”

“I never planned to kill you even when you stood between Heung and I. But your actions are tipping the scale against your precious life, so I suggest you calm the fuck down before I do something.”

Taeyong laughs in Jaehyun’s face, loud and sarcastic. “You can’t expect me to believe that!”

Jaehyun slides one hand down Taeyong’s arm, across his shoulder to his neck. His grip is loose, almost like a tease. Taeyong bites his lip and glares back, stubborn and unwavering.

“Not afraid of death?”

“Never.”

“Then it begs the question, you had many opportunities to commit suicide.”

“I won't take the easy way out.”

“Brave words.” Jaehyun’s hand around Taeyong’s throat tightens. The pressure is just shy of pain, the heat just shy of pleasure. Taeyong bites back a groan as tingles shoot up his spine. Fuck. No. _No. This isn't happening-_ “Let’s see how long this bravado lasts.”

“You’re going to kill yourself,” hisses Taeyong.

“I’ve knocked you out without knocking myself out.” The grin on Jaehyun’s face is all feral, his eyes animalistic. “You keep forgetting who I am, Lee Taeyong.”

“There’s no chance you’d survive,” Taeyong gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and willing his body to not respond. “Not even at your own hands.”

“Ah, you still underestimate me.”

Jaehyun shifts slightly, and encounters a hardness under him. Taeyong’s eyes shoot open.

There is a tense silence.

Jaehyun seats down a little, feeling the pressure. “Oh?”

“Don’t.”

“Hm. What happened to the confident policeman?” Jaehyun rolls his hips, wild grin growing even wider.

Taeyong hisses, using his entire willpower to stop himself from shifting, or worse, bucking up. He bites his tongue so hard it starts bleeding. He’d rather die than admit the truth.

Jaehyun hums a low, delightful sound. It feels like it’s connected right to Taeyong’s dick, because he’s hard in seconds. Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the way his cheeks grow red with want. _Please, anything but this-_ “I see you still don’t understand the situation.”

Suddenly, Taeyong pushes off one leg, throwing Jaehyun down as he tumbles above him, landing on his arms and knees. He grapples Jaehyun’s hands, pinning them beside his head as he flattens his weight on the other man. Only a second later, Jaehyun flips their position again.

In their struggle for the upper hand, their hips align and their erections brush against each other in the tiniest motion. Taeyong feels the soft fabric of their sweatpants and sees the combined wet spots and his body trembles as he gasps.

“Fuck-”

_Knock. Knock knock knock._


	10. 09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, j ♡
> 
> ( ; u ; ) Jskjkkdkjs I'm so floored by everyone's sweet comments, leaving kudos, subscribing, bookmarking and all ♡ y'all are so thoughtful and supportive! It really helps to keep my writing going. As thanks and more importantly, as a birthday present, I will be uploading two new chapters. I hope you enjoy them! As always, take care and stay healthy ♡

“I brought extra blankets since the snow is coming in tonight.”

Taeyong accepts the blankets with a pink face and shaky hands. “Wow, um, thanks. That’s really thoughtful of you.”

“Don’t worry about it! It would be terrible if my guests froze solid!” Chii, the inn owner, bends back and lets out a hearty laugh. Taeyong fears that she might throw out her back. The cat slinks around her ankles, sniffing the air. Then she gives Taeyong a judgmental look. Taeyong tries to ignore her.

“Aha hah. That wouldn't be good. No.”

“And I thought Mr. Singer was travelling with a partner! It was wrong of me to assume. Would a room with two beds be more suitable for you?”

Taeyong doesn’t want to think that Jaehyun’s brought other partners here. He doesn’t want to think about Jaehyun, period. Thank fuck for the blankets that are now covering his pants and equally that the landlady is more-or-less blind. He tunes her out until the last sentence registers.

“Two beds?” He perks in interest. “Would it be too much of a bother?”

“Not at all! Whatever makes your stay more comfortable.”

“Then-”

“We’ll be fine with this room,” a new voice behind Taeyong interjects. The hairs on Taeyong’s back stand on its tips. “It’s late and we’d hate to bother you about a trivial matter like this.”

Chii tilts her head a little, like following Jaehyun's voice behind Taeyong. “Ah, alright. You’re very welcome!”

Chii nods, hobbling her way down the cobblestone path, the cat a few paces behind, her bell tinkling through the mist. Taeyong feels the door slip from his fingers and close in front of him. The telltale _click_ echoes in his ears. His eyes latch onto Jaehyun’s hand, which slides down the door to somewhere behind. Close behind. Close enough that he can feel Jaehyun's breath against his nape.

Suddenly, the blankets are yanked from his hand, and the looming presence shuffles back to the room. He hears Jaehyun snort. The ball of tension in his abdomen eases a little, and he takes a shuddering breath.

“Listen,” Taeyong says. His voice doesn’t crack; it’s a good start. “We should talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“This, whatever this is. I don’t even know what to call this-”

“We don’t need to call it anything for it to be, Lee Taeyong.”

His name slipping from Jaehyun’s tongue is dirty and delicious, and Taeyong wishes he didn’t react the way he does. They’re _just_ soulmates, it shouldn’t mean anything.

“That’s not how to deal with a problem.”

“Then why don’t you start by turning around to face me, instead of the door?”

Taeyong takes a shallow breath, then turns around.

Jaehyun is seated on the bed against the headboard, propping an arm on his knee, a challenge to his eyes. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? What were you saying?”

Taeyong grits his teeth. “Whatever sick game you’re playing, stop.”

A crooked smirk pulls at Jaehyun's lips. “Game? I'm not playing any game. You’re the one who jumped me.”

“That’s because you-”

Jaehyun’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Don’t make yourself the victim of the situation.”

Taeyong's temper flares. “How would I know that we would feel- ugh, _things_ when we touch! Since when was that a thing?”

“Fuck if I know!”

“Then we’re even!”

They glare at each other. Finally, Jaehyun turns away with a huff.

“Whatever.” Taeyong grumbles, a scathing edge to his tone. “The faster we get rid of this bond, the better.”

“Awesome. Thanks for stating the obvious.”

“At least I’m not so selfish that I need to have everything my way!”

“I’ve adapted long enough to finally earn the right to have things my way!”

“Do you have any idea how arrogant you sound?”

“Do you? What do you know, when you’ve trained and fought in shelter. Have you ever fought for your life?”

“Now who’s playing the victim card? That was the life _you chose_.”

Their faces are an inch away. From this distance, Taeyong can see the flickers of Jaehyun’s eyes like gold embers of a fire; fierce, relentless, all consuming. He feels the anger and frustration not only through their bond, but also from the waves emanating from Jaehyun like he’s the sun, ablaze and magnetizing.

“Fuck this.”

Jaehyun storms out of the cabin without another word.

Taeyong growls in frustration, wanting to punch something but not yet close enough to destroy the room. It’s a close thing. He paces, seething, seeing red. He hasn’t been this angry in a long time. And he’s totally getting blue balls from earlier, which is just a load of bullshit. With an aggravated sigh, he marches to the bathroom, turns the shower water to _extremely hot_ , and rubs an angry one out with eyes squeezed shut. Gold spins behind his eyelids, not unlike the afterimages you see after staring at the sun. Gold. Angry. Just like some asshole’s eyes-

Another rush of anger fizzles through his veins. Gold flickers and spirals to deep cobalt blue. Taeyong’s eyes crack open and he comes with a choked groan, his ejaculate spilling over his hand, glass stall and bathroom tiles.

Fuck Jaehyun. Fuck soulmates. Fuck everything that’s happened. He’s going to make it out alive, and when the bond’s gone, he’s going to kill Jaehyun.

Hours after Taeyong’s collapsed on the bed sleeping, Jaehyun comes back. The door swings from the hinge and slams against the wall, but not angrily. It wakes Taeyong.

He frowns at the looming silhouette by the door. The cabin is pitch black, and the only source of light is from behind Jaehyun and the window. Taeyong squints at the white, like not quite registering what he's seeing as he shakes the remains of sleep from his eyes. Oh. It's snow; coating everything in a layer of white, melting to droplets of water when it touches Jaehyun's skin. Jaehyun pauses, then, as though remembering how cold it was, closes the door quickly. The air that flushes in smells like cold rain, trees, earth, and alcohol.

Having never been a fan of cliché uses of darkness, Taeyong flicks on the desk lamp.

Jaehyun’s eyes are half lidded, unfocused. His cheeks and ears are pink, dark brows drawn to a frown, lips red. Taeyong’s eyes move lower, and he almost gasps. Jaehyun’s knuckles are red and white and swollen, and Taeyong quickly scans the back of his hands to see the same. 

“What the hell did you do, beat up some trees?”

Jaehyun ignores his question. “Pick a side, princess.” He grumbles, peeling off his thin shirt.

Taeyong sees goosebumps covering every inch of Jaehyun's exposed skin. But more apparent than that is fatigue vibrating from Jaehyun's body, so much so that Taeyong even feels hints of it through their bond. It’s grey and weary, like Jaehyun has felt it for a long time. How much did Jaehyun drink, that his control is lowered and his emotions seep through the bond like this?

Taeyong looks back to his hands, wiggling his fingers. No broken bones, just a lot of unnecessary red and white that looks more severe than it is. He's had worse through his years of training. But it’s late and he’s tired. He doesn't have the energy to patch up his own hands, much less give Jaehyun an earful for doing this to them both. He can deal with this in the morning, maybe even punch some sense to Jaehyun for getting drunk and busting their hands. With a grumbly huff, he rolls to one side and squeezes his eyes shut. 

Jaehyun must’ve walked to the other side of the bed, because the mattress sags and the springs squeak a little. Then, a cold line of muscles press into his back. A frozen arm swings over his head to reach somewhere further. Taeyong’s eyes shoot open.

“Dude what-”

“The lamp.”

Taeyong grumbles and quickly turns off the desk lamp. But when he settles back on the mattress, Jaehyun is still there behind him, breathing, unmoving. He can feel Jaehyun’s cool exhale on his spine. _Too close._ He can't turn around, knowing that Jaehyun’s face is right there, so he complains loudly. Still, Jaehyun doesn’t move. Doesn’t even respond.

Irritated, he turns around to shove Jaehyun away, but finds slivers of dull gold staring back at him. In the short time he’s known the mass murderer, he’s never seen him this tired. They stare at each other for a long moment, then Jaehyun rolls to his back. His eyes slide shut. It’s not an act of compassion, but Taeyong understands. He slowly pulls the extra blankets over Jaehyun and himself, and prays that sleep comes to him soon. It doesn’t.

•••

“I still don’t think that following a lead describing one man ‘unnaturally beautiful’ is going to lead us to Taeyong,” complains Doyoung.

“What else would you’ve called him?” Asks Yuta, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe it translates differently in Vietnamese,” supplies Johnny helpfully.

“The informant you talked to spoke English fluidly and had an American accent. It was the only way we understood," snaps Yuta

They share a chuckle as they park the rented car and check into a hostel.

They’ve agreed, as they undocked on the shore of Hai Phong, that it’s much faster to drive to the nearest police station and inform the local police force that the highly wanted criminal, Seu, was in their country. All police stations across Northern Vietnam were alerted, but there was not enough surveillance to locate the man or his travelling partner. They’ve driven around for almost two weeks, checking hotels, motels and hostels to find Taeyong and mass murderer. It leads them from the lively, colourful streets of Hanoi to the outskirts of Sơn La, where they met the American English teacher who caught sight of two tall men traipsing through the backwoods of the area.

 _Tall,_ he said, _and unnaturally beautiful. They looked like backpacking models, if such a thing existed._

Johnny nodded his thanks, while Doyoung rolled his eyes at the description and Yuta outright guffawed when he learned the translation.

“I just don’t think one description is going to get us to where Taeyong is,” says Doyoung, sitting on one of the single beds.

“For what it’s worth, we confirmed that there are only two of them,” Johnny says. “If it is us against Seu, we definitely stand a chance.”

“We will win,” says Yuta with an air of certainty, “but that’s not the issue. We still don’t know where they’re going. We could keep going on this road north to China, or west to Laos, neither of which makes sense. What’s there for him?”

“And what does any of this have to do with Taeyong?” Doyoung continues, frowning thoughtfully. “It was stupid of him to jump into the situation alone, but it didn’t seem like he fucked up the trade, if the pile of bodies in the back alley was anything to go by. And if he stumbled upon the crime scene, Seu would’ve by all accounts killed him on the spot.”

Johnny winces at this, and Doyoung places a hand on his arm. “Or at least try. Taeyong was never easy to take down.”

“But as far as we know, he’s still alive,” says Johnny.

“And in Vietnam,” adds Yuta.

“Likely brought here against his will, otherwise one of us would’ve known,” concludes Doyoung. “The other strange thing is: they’re alone. Is Seu the type to travel anywhere without his men?”

“You’re asking the wrong people,” replies Johnny the liberal arts professor.

Yuta, the creative director of Tatler magazine, shakes his head as well. “My guess is no. There’s no reason for a gang leader to be without his trusted men.” Something in his eyes shifts. “Unless his faction is so small and he needs his men at home base to run business while he goes on a honeymoon with a hot cop.”

“Yuta!” Doyoung, the asset manager, shrills.

Yuta shrugs. “Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your minds. This is basically a shitty action romance movie where the characters elope to live happily ever after.”

Johnny snickers while Doyoung’s face twists into pained exasperation. “You watch too much anime.”

“I spend my time on quality fictitious content,” defends Yuta. “It’s better than the dramas you watch.”

“I only watch the ones that my brother is in,” defends Doyoung testily.

“Regardless,” interrupts Johnny, placing a well intentioned hand on Yuta’s shoulder. Doyoung harrumphs, looking away, “this is clearly out of Taeyong’s control. He wouldn’t choose to spend even a second with a criminal if his job didn’t require it.”

“A forced honeymoon, then,” concludes Yuta.

“Stop it with the honeymoon,” snaps Doyoung. “There must be something that Seu has over Taeyong. Something important. Do you think it’s his father?”

“That old dragon? Taeyong hasn’t spoken to him in forever,” spits Yuta.

“A lover?”

They pause, then all shake their heads with crooked smiles.

“Definitely not that one,” says Johnny. His phone rings. With a frown, he accepts the call. “Hi?” A pause. “Ten?”

He excuses himself, and Doyoung frowns at his back. Yuta catches the look and smiles. Doyoung sees his expression and his scowl deepens.

“Gotta say, the green-eyes don't look particularly charming on you,” Yuta comments lightly.

“Mind your own business, Nakamoto.”

Yuta’s hands cover his heart, wearing an exaggerated pout. “I’m hurt, Doyoungie.”

“Should I remind you of the long list of lovers who have left you for other things in life? Let’s start with Sol-”

Yuta scowls. “That’s unnecessary.”

Doyoung crosses his arms and sends him a cool glare. “Let’s just focus on why Seu took Taeyong.”

“Fine.” Yuta looks around uncomfortably. “If this were a kidnapping situation, then Taeyong might be a bargaining chip for something bigger. But the Hong Kong Police force have so far been ignorant of any connection Seu and Taeyong might share. No ransom letter. No contact with his mother or sister. Unless Taeyong pissed Seu during the first time they met…”

“Taeyong’s mouth runs, but he was on duty. He’d never jeopardize his work that way.”

“Exactly.”

Doyoung taps his chin, deep in thought.

Johnny comes back with his lips drawn tight and a grim look in his eyes. Yuta’s lips pull into a tight line, and Doyoung leans in. “So?”

“Ten caught wind from Sicheng, said he might know why it's just the two of them wandering in this part of the woods.” Johnny explains slowly, like he doesn't believe what he's about to say either. "About that honeymoon... Ten has a theory.”


	11. 10

Taeyong wakes up with a pile of blankets on him, a med kit on his night stand, and Jaehyun nowhere to be seen.

It’s warm. Comfortable. He hasn’t slept on a bed in a while, so this feels especially luxurious. He sighs, wiggles in the toasty nest, and tiredly recounts everything that’s happened so far:

• It’s been eleven days since his kidnap  
• He’s at a bed and breakfast in the mountains, owned by a visually impaired local  
• He’s bonded to Jaehyun, the up and coming faction leader and mass murderer of East Asia who he finds scary, intriguing and attractive, sometimes all at once  
• The way to break the bond is somewhere in the mountains, perhaps beyond, but he has no idea where  
• Fighting (or even touching) Jaehyun is out of the question. Period.

He sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. A stinging sensation bursts from the back of his hand. Oh, right. Jaehyun went on a rampage last night. Suddenly the med kit on his night stand makes sense. He ignores it, rising to his feet and shuffling into the bathroom to clean his hand. It’s one thing to transfer an injury through the soulmate bond, another completely if he was unknowingly infected by some kind of flesh-eating bacteria. As he reaches for the door, it swings open and he comes face to face with a half-naked Jaehyun.

Neither speak or move for a moment, then Jaehyun’s eyes shift to somewhere behind Taeyong. He moves away first.

Taeyong remembers to breathe, and walks into the bathroom.

The cold water of the sink wakes him up, sending stinging pain up his arm, but he’s had worse. He cleans the injury as best as he can before patching it up and returning to the room.

Jaehyun perches by the window, leaning against the thick curtains. Taeyong feels Jaehyun's heavy gaze on him and suppresses the urge to yell at the man for his impulsive and violent tendencies. Punching trees is no way to deal with anger. (Though to be fair, neither was wanking off in the cold shower; but at least he didn’t injure anything but his pride when he imagined Jaehyun’s eyes- _Nope. Definitely not going there._ )

Taeyong shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. There's no point to his frustration, his anger. Jaehyun didn’t intend this. Neither of them did. He knots the white bandages around his knuckles, secures two bandaids on his thumb, and turns to Jaehyun’s unbandaged hand. “Need a hand with that?”

Jaehyun’s expression remains unreadable. “No.”

Of course. Taeyong ignores the spike of irritation and puts the med kit away. “The next time you go on a rampage, try to not fuck your hands up.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “Should I plan it around your bedtime too?”

Taeyong makes a show of thinking about it. “That would be wonderfully considerate of you. How about after this bond is broken?”

Jaehyun snorts. “Idiot.” Something in his tone dissolves the tension in Taeyong’s muscles. They’re going to ignore what happened last night. Good. “Get dressed. It’s almost lunch time.”

Lunch is a combination of fried rice, pickled vegetables and warm black tea. Taeyong’s mood instantly lifts.

After lunch, where Jaehyun had his attention trained on the television, they go back to their rooms, and Jaehyun frowns at their discarded packs on the floor.

“We’ll need more rations,” he announces.

“...how much more?”

As usual, Jaehyun doesn’t answer his question. Instead, he looks out the window like it has all the answers to the questions. Taeyong rolls his eyes.

“It’s too cold today. We’ll go tomorrow.”

The nearest township, according to Chii, is an hour walk away. She offers her old scooter for them to use, but Jaehyun politely declines. The snow on the ground would make the ride a difficult one, he said. He doesn’t say that the license plate on the back of the scooter can be easily traced. She nods with a kind, understanding smile, and offers some knitted sweaters she’s made. She reminds Taeyong of his overbearing, sweet grandmother. He accepts them with a bright smile and genuine gratitude.

The sweaters keep them warm from the mountain winds. They set off at a brisk pace, following a path until they reach the entrance of the village.

Taeyong tries to not look too suspicious lingering around stores, looking for a telephone while Jaehyun stocks up on their necessities. More than once, Taeyong feels a tug on the bond and looks up to see Jaehyun frowning at him. He throws an easy smile at the young woman in the booth, then rushes away before she gets roughed up by the broody mass murderer.

“I didn’t know you were interested in spices.” Jaehyun frowns at the wooden barrels of colourful spices.

Taeyong shrugs, pointedly not looking at the phone sitting by the front desk, two feet from where he was standing. “Life was getting dull and tasteless, you know.”

Jaehyun glances at the stall, then shoots Taeyong an unimpressed look. “I thought you liked men.”

Taeyong sputters as Jaehyun leaves him for the next store. Clothes, surprisingly.

Jaehyun rifles through the racks until he finds what he’s looking for, then hands it over to Taeyong. “Try it on,” he instructs.

Taeyong pulls a face. It’s a generic blue fleece jacket, looking like something his father would wear. It’s also surprisingly warm. Taeyong’s not about to go fashion police when his survival is at stake.

“It’s nice.”

Jaehyun gives him another scrutinizing look, nods, and pulls a black one out for himself. Then he rounds the other side of the booth, browsing for other things. Taeyong feels the bond loosen again.

“喜欢这个? 我可以帮你拿个新的.”¹

Taeyong looks up to see a young man, no older than eighteen, flashing him a greasy smile with a dark look in his eyes. His hair is greasy as hell too, and wow, are those pimples? He is just about as subtle as a brick, and Taeyong feels the urge to break his neck in half. He reigns it back just in time to pull a half-smile. He shouldn’t be picky about help. “你会讲中文? 我-”²

“不用了, 谢谢."³ The warning glare Jaehyun shoots at the boy speaks volumes of the anger he feels. As does the fire that flares through their bond. Taeyong freezes, suddenly scared for his life. Oh god, is this how Jaehyun feels? "这些多少?”⁴

As Jaehyun settles the bill, Taeyong slowly thaws, stumbling to the front of the store with shaky steps.

When Jaehyun finally emerges, he throws the bag of clothes at Taeyong’s face. “You’re so full of shit.”

Taeyong feels the bond tighten and gapes. “Excuse me! I was just minding my own business and supporting local businesses!”

“‘Supporting local businesses’? He was stripping you with his eyes!”

Taeyong opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. “That’s basically what you do anyway so what’s the difference!”

Jaehyun takes a step closer, his voice lowers dangerously. “The difference is he’s a slimy _infant_ not knowing what he's getting into, and I’m a hot piece of meat!”

Taeyong stomps his foot. “Ugh! You’re insufferable!”

“That wasn’t a no.” A cheeky smirk pulls at Jaehyun’s lips. “So you _do_ think I’m a hot piece of meat.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“I don’t think so.”

Before Jaehyun finishes his sentence, the length of the bond is now pulled to a meager three strides. Back to square one. Taeyong fumes and stomps all the way down the road. Jaehyun grins at his temper tantrum.

It’s another hour before Jaehyun finishes his shopping and Taeyong (courtesy of his whining and Jaehyun’s wallet) finishes his chicken skewers. Taeyong’s mood lifts somewhat from the food. (They _were_ good chicken skewers.) The temperature has warmed considerably and the snow melts, leaving puddles on the ground. With their bellies full and packs fuller, they make their way back to the bed and breakfast.

They make twenty strides out of the village walls when a group of twelve men step out from the camouflage of the shrubbery. One of them is the boy from earlier, and he’s eyeing at Taeyong with a sickly smile. But the others don’t look like locals. In fact, they have a sharp, knowing glint to their eyes, and they’re all looking at Jaehyun. Taeyong quickly documents the weapons in their hands: two by fours, plastic and metal pipes, bare hands. He instinctively pulls into a defensive position, not knowing the situation enough to speak. But it doesn’t seem like the thugs are here to chat.

The young man comes out first, pointing a metal pipe at Jaehyun’s head. He screams some fighting words. His grip is weak, his stance a push from falling. Taeyong almost laughs.

Jaehyun takes a step forward. And then another.

Two men come charging from behind, screaming as they wave around pieces of lumber. Jaehyun shortens the distance to the boy, steals the metal pipe, kicks his knees backwards so hard Taeyong hears a sickening crunch, then immediately swings at the man approaching on his left.

The boy’s cry signals the start of the fight.

Taeyong watches as Jaehyun maneuvers through the attacks seemingly with eyes in the back of his head, with how accurately he predicts their movements. He’s never seen Jaehyun fight before, but witnessing it, he understands why Jaehyun is feared.

Jaehyun is brutally efficient in ending lives. His movements are economic, his attitude ruthless, violent. Another man drops before two more take his place.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Taeyong sees two sneak up around him, and leaps back to set some distance.

One with a metal pipe. One with bare hands. Taeyong’s eyes harden. He feels his fighting instincts take over-

He attacks first, thrusting a steel palm with dead accuracy at one’s solar plexus. Winded and choking, the man’s grip around the metal pipe loosens so Taeyong steals and throws it away. Taeyong throws an upper jab on the man’s chin, three to his side (a muted crunch signals the crack of a rib) and kicks the back of his knees. The man falls to the ground, a groaning pulpy mess. He doesn't try to get up after that. But he’s quickly taken over by the other, who leaps in with a scream. Taeyong ducks to avoid the punch, then unsuccessfully tries to take the man down. The man throws a series of jabs that Taeyong blocks with ease, before locking the man’s arms between his and shortening the distance. Then he feels a lurch and stumbles-

The bond. Jaehyun.

The man sees his chance and quickly climbs on him, but Taeyong is faster and throws him off again. Taeyong can feel heat blooming from his right cheek even though he was not hit. He stumbles back on his feet and, in a quick series of motions, flips the man over and kicks his spine for good measure.

He looks up to see Jaehyun faring better. There are six men on him, all with weapons. Taeyong grits his teeth and leaps in. “On your six!”

He takes a man down from behind, and Jaehyun uses the moment’s distraction to take down another man. An elbow to the jaw, unhinging it. The man screams in pain, falling away. Then Taeyong sees: there is blood on Jaehyun’s hands, but Taeyong doesn’t feel any other injuries. His stomach sinks.

There’s no time to think. Another man is on him, while two more leap on Jaehyun.

Taeyong blocks the metal pipe with the back of his arm and without a pause to wince, throws his weight forward, grabbing the man’s collar and hooking a leg behind, tripping him before flipping him over. The man falls on his knees and face with a loud grunt. Taeyong kicks the pipe away and knocks him out.

Finally, he looks up just in time to see, and feel, Jaehyun taking a hit on his back. Taeyong grunts, falling forward as well. Someone growls. Taeyong’s not sure who. But he quickly clambers back onto his feet and approaches the group.

It reminds him of the tournaments he joined with the other nine dragons, fighting against top martial artists around the world. But those never felt this way. The rush of adrenaline to land punches, observe weakness and use it to his advantage, the thrill and excitement; it’s all new to him. In fact, it doesn’t feel like him at all. But he doesn't dwell on it. He takes it in stride, feeling more powerful than he's ever felt, and pushes to the remaining attackers.

Somehow, somewhere in Taeyong’s core, he knows he can trust Jaehyun to have his back. They will win.

The remaining four go down quickly, one by Taeyong, three by Jaehyun.

Taeyong stumbles to the side, catching his breath as he wipes the flecks of blood from his mouth and cheek. They won. Of course they won. These men don't hold a candle against two of the strongest fighters on this side of the meridian. But the elation of winning this ambush is short-lived when Taeyong looks around him. Bodies lay around them, puddles mixed with blood. It's a horrifying sight. However, he notes a difference. His pursuers are either twitching, breathing, or struggling to climb to their feet. Jaehyun’s pursuers haven’t moved.

“We have to go.”

Taeyong meets Jaehyun's eyes and freezes. There is a wild look in the golden eyes. Taeyong looks down. Dark red drips from Jaehyun's hands, speckles are found on his clothes. A whiff of something thick and metallic registers in his nose.

Taeyong swallows thickly and nods. "Right, okay."

They sprint back. Jaehyun makes an excuse to Chii while Taeyong takes a shower and patches himself as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Then Taeyong returns the extra bedding while Jaehyun does the same. Taeyong pauses by the front desk. After a moment, he returns to the room, heart racing a mile a minute.

There he sees Jaehyun inspecting the weapons he must've forgotten to bring on the shopping trip to the village. Taeyong can’t imagine how much faster and bloodier the fight would’ve been if Jaehyun had brought his knives. He tries not to think about it.

They leave without another word.

It’s dangerous to travel in the dark, but the flashlight Jun supplied is strong and fully charged. It provides enough light for their travels. Taeyong follows close behind.

They trek for hours without talking, eating up ground as quickly as they can before Jaehyun calls for a stop. It’s cold again, though there’s no snow. Still, their breaths come out in white puffs as they pitch the tent. Jaehyun lays out a bedroll, then gestures for Taeyong to go inside.

“No fire tonight.” He says with hard eyes and a grim set to his lips.

Taeyong understands. A fire would shine like a beacon in this darkness. The last thing they need is more attention to themselves. He climbs into the tent, but doesn’t zip up yet. Jaehyun frowns at his hesitation, and he affects a crooked grin.

“You really like Chii, huh?”

The muscle in Jaehyun’s jaw clenches.

“I understand evacuating as quickly as possible. But you didn’t want Chii to get into trouble-”

“It’s a good establishment,” Jaehyun interrupts in a quiet voice, looking away. “...and she is nice.”

What a human thing to say. So… Jaehyun.

But it's hard to smile after, well, everything. The fight. The blood. The adrenaline that’s still pumping through his veins. The feral look in Jaehyun’s eyes stay imprinted in his mind.

“Sleep. We’ll be moving before dawn.”

Taeyong opens his mouth to ask, _what about you?-_ but Jaehyun zips up the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ = Like this? I can get you a new one.  
> ² = You can speak Chinese? I-  
> ³ = No thanks.  
> ⁴ = How much is this?


	12. 11

Jaehyun wordlessly hands over a steaming sweet potato to Taeyong. It’s cooked just right, soft, sticky, not a speck of char on it. They stole it from a farm they passed by earlier.

Taeyong accepts it with a short nod. He blows on the steam, scattering it to whisps, before plucking off the skin and taking a bite. “This is really good,” he says after a moment, slow and even.

Something in Jaehyun’s chest tightens. He digs out another sweet potato from the small fire, eating it as muted irritation simmers under his skin.

Ever since the ambush, he and Taeyong haven’t exchanged so much as a sentence; a far cry from their witty banters and playful conversations. It shouldn’t bother Jaehyun. He's surrounded by the sounds of the jungle which, while not calming, is better than Taeyong’s incessant chatter. Additionally, he isn’t badgered with questions like whether he knew where they were going, which is a definite plus. But he knows why Taeyong’s been keeping to himself, and the reason bothers him.

Even if Jaehyun missed the look in Taeyong’s eyes, he can’t miss the emotion humming through their bond like a glare of sunlight.

Fear.

An emotion he built his life around. Fear of betrayal. Fear of being left behind. Fear of dying. Then, flipping it: to be feared.

Fear never bothered him.

Being feared meant being taken seriously or avoided at all costs. It gave hesitation to an attack, which was all his team needed to commence their killing spree. Their reputation preceded them. An attack on any one member meant an attack on the whole faction. The consequences could be a chopped finger, or it could be psychological scare tactics leading to a violent death. Every action against his team came with a price.

Jaehyun wore fear like a protective suit to fights, a badge across negotiation tables. He was respected out of fear. Fear was control.

But for some reason, he doesn’t want that from Taeyong. In the same way that when he noticed Taeyong falling ill, he quickly located the safe bed and breakfast. The coughs that rattled Taeyong’s nimble form made him… uncomfortable.

And he doesn’t know why.

Taeyong, the nosy policeman who threw Jaehyun’s life in a tizzy within a second of being in close proximity. Taeyong, whose strength and fighting exceed most of Jaehyun’s arms. Jaehyun reckons that not even No or Min would stand a chance against Taeyong unless they fought in tandem. Taeyong, whose quick wit and sarcasm meet his own blow for blow. Taeyong, whose eyes are bright and smile wide and genuine. Taeyong, who is very, very pretty.

Jaehyun’s always been quick to learn what he likes. Fighting. Power. Money. Men.

He’ll admit, he hadn't considered the possibility at the beginning. He and law enforcers usually stood on opposite sides of the law and, while fraternizing with the enemy is not unheard of, Jaehyun’s first inclination is to kill them, not fuck them. He's aware that the bond might be clouding his judgment. Taeyong’s strong emotions are annoying and distracting; a constant barrage of colours and sounds that he sees and hears, throwing his own concentration out of the proverbial window. Jaehyun’s never experienced anything more infuriating.

So, it's a shallow attraction.

Thankfully, Taeyong’s emotions have been muted since the fight. Jaehyun doesn’t know why, but his guess is a combination of seeing him fight (he knows he’s violent), and for being attacked. Most people don’t find themselves in a position where they need to fight for their lives, literally.

Still, this new Taeyong doesn’t sit well with Jaehyun. So he says:

“You realize,” he starts, slow and steady like talking to a frightened animal, “that I’m the same person.”

Beside him, Taeyong tenses. Jaehyun reads the emotions running through the wide eyes: fluster, annoyance, resignation.

Taeyong’s lips pull into a crooked smile. “You don’t let me forget, do you?”

A long silence drifts in the air between them.

“It’s changed.”

“What?”

Now it’s Taeyong’s turn to look at Jaehyun. After a pause, he shakes his head and looks at the fire again. “Nevermind. It’s probably just me.”

Jaehyun frowns. “What's changed?”

Taeyong shrugs, shifting uncomfortably. “The bond feels different. But it’s probably just me getting used to it after all the, um, touching. And fighting. And stuff.”

“Touching,” Jaehyun repeats, almost amused, “fighting.”

“You know what I mean! The first night at the bed and breakfast! When you jumped into _my_ strawberry bubble bath!”

“We’ve gone over this. I paid for it. Ergo it’s mine.”

"Ugh! Stingy!”

"You can return that fleece sweater if you want.”

“Seriously? You’re going to fight me for a sweater?”

“I’ve fought for a lot less than a sweater.”

The conversation drops into an uncomfortable silence. Taeyong looks at him a little helplessly, the corners of his mouth wobbling. “You know, you’d be a lot less scary if you stopped making these vaguely violent threats.”

Not knowing what to say, Jaehyun shrugs.

Taeyong sniffs, crossing his arms defensively. “As I was saying, I used to only feel the bond if I really focused. But I can feel the bond a lot more closely to my core now. Is this normal?”

Jaehyun catches himself staring at Taeyong’s lips, he quickly looks away. “I don't know. The only change I noticed was impressions of your feelings.”

“How?”

“They are more... muffled compared to before.”

Taeyong makes a confused face. “Really? But I feel more of you.”

All of Jaehyun’s thoughts to a halt.

Taeyong catches the expression on Jaehyun’s face and takes half a step back. Jaehyun recognizes the look. It was the same when he pinned Taeyong at the point of his dagger. It feels like it happened years ago. “It... wasn’t intentional. I didn’t know it was going to happen! I just. It just. I felt, um, feel you a bit more than before. It’s probably because you’re tired and stressed from all this killing, which is surprising because, well, you’ve killed a lot of people before so you should be used to this.”

A vein on Jaehyun’s forehead starts throbbing. “Shut up,” he growls in warning.

“And seriously, shouldn’t you know more about this since you’ve actually met and trained under a pair of soulmates? And what is up with the distance thing? What happens when we break the bond? Does it go back to what we were before so we don’t need to be in close proximity to each other again? And what if the bond is fulfilled?”

Jaehyun opens his mouth, closes it, and glares at Taeyong really hard.

“Are you done?”

“No, I have more questions. Like those men from the village. Did they know you? Did you know them? Do you seriously have this many enemies everywhere? And where are we going? Is there really a person or ritual or thing that can break the bond? You said you trained under a pair, but they must’ve still been bonded to train you to control your bond, so it must’ve been someone else’s bond that you saw being broken.” Taeyong takes a deep breath, eyes filled with concern and fear. “I don’t want to die here.”

Jaehyun’s jaw tightens. “You won’t.”

“But those men-”

“I can take on more.” Jaehyun growls. “I will protect you. You are _not_ going to die here.”

The raw conviction stuns Taeyong into silence. They hold each other’s stares for a moment, then Taeyong looks away. Irritation bubbles in Jaehyun’s stomach.

“You don’t have to trust me. I’m not asking anything from you but your cooperation until this bond breaks, then you’re free to go. I’m not going to kill you. You have my word.”

A pause.

“Who were they?”

Jaehyun shrugs, a dark look in his eyes. “Dunno. If I were to guess, they probably recognized me from a wanted poster and decided the bounty for my head was incentive enough to take me down. They had no idea who they were up against.”

“Don’t you know them?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Of course not. You don’t make friends in this line of work. Just business partners and a lot of enemies.”

“Including random people who want you dead,” adds Taeyong with a frown. “The broken bond-”

“The broken bond I witnessed was not with the masters I trained with. The masters were a part of a small nomadic community in Northern Thailand with villagers, hunters, healers, fighters and a, for the lack of a better word, witch. She was sought out by soulmates who discovered their bond after they were married to other people. They decided to break it to continue with their old lives.”

Taeyong blinks. “Oh.”

“As I said before, the length of the bond grows with the strength of the bond. Once broken, there will be no distance limitation. The same happens when the bond is fulfilled, completed. No limitation. My trainers were not limited to a set distance, they often travelled without the other. If I had to guess, what you saw when you were training,” Taeyong nods, listening intently, “was probably the defense mechanism of your core reacting to your probing around the bond.”

“Oh,” repeats Taeyong, then he frowns. “Wait, so our cores have been fraternizing through the bond?”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “Crude, but yes. It’s what all cores want; drawing strength and balance from a complete bond.”

Taeyong nods slowly. Then Jaehyun watches as a realization creeps into his eyes. “Can we still do it? Breaking the bond? I’m not as attuned as you are, but even I know that the distance is not what it used to be. It hasn’t been for a while.”

A strange pause drifts between them as Jaehyun contemplates the answer. It’s the same question he’s been asking himself since the first night they shared the tent. He doesn't know the answer, and he doesn't want to give false hope. Though false hope to what, he doesn't know. He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Thankfully, Taeyong goes quiet after that. It gives Jaehyun the chance to consider Taeyong’s words.

Taeyong can feel more of him. But the bond didn’t feel different to him. Taeyong was right. Even when Jaehyun was in more stressful situations, he was able to control and draw strength from the bond. There shouldn’t be a reason why he can’t do that now. What changed?

“-from here?”

Jaehyun looks over to Taeyong, having missed his question. “What?”

“I said, what happens from here? You said the group was nomadic, so how would you know where they are?”

Jaehyun hums contemplatively. "According to my pointman, the tribe was last seen near Pai. But we’ll have to walk faster. The ambush at the village means more people will know that I am here and, as you pointed out, we're running out of time."

"Wouldn't it be easier to get a cab?" Jaehyun levels Taeyong with an exasperated look. "I’m not playing into the princess role, but your feet are getting blisters too."

Jaehyun looks away uncomfortably. He didn’t think it was noticeable. "It’s easier to hop out of the back of a truck."

“... if you want to break an arm or your fucking head. Are you even human?"

"No, I'm a monster."

Jaehyun's monotonous response and dark grin has Taeyong snickering. "Yeah you are."

Something lodges into Jaehyun's stomach. He ignores it.

The fire crackles between them. Taeyong pokes at it with a stick.

“Would it be so bad if we completed the bond? You said it would give us free reign again, right? If we completed the bond and remained platonic, we can technically go back to our old lives. No more traipsing in the jungles, mosquito bites, and this disgusting gruel.”

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything.

“Are there any, uh, rituals we gotta do to complete the bond?”

Another pause.

“I wouldn’t have suggested sex back at the cabin if it was all it took to complete the bond.” Taeyong blushes five different shades of red, and Jaehyun lowers his voice. “Why are you asking? Have you changed your mind about fucking?” As expected, Taeyong leaps six feet away, and Jaehyun laughs at his terrified expression. “I thought you weren’t scared of me?”

Taeyong sputters. “I’m not!”

“Liar. I can feel it through the bond.”

“You’re not feeling jack shit, because I’m definitely _not_ scared of you!”

“You most definitely are.”

“I’m not!”

“Then-”

“Argh. Fine! How do you want me to prove it?”

“Come here.”

Taeyong hesitates.

“Stop being scared and come here. I’m not going to kill you.”

The words do the trick. Taeyong bravely stomps to Jaehyun and plops down. Jaehyun sticks his right hand out, palm facing out, eyes expectant. Slowly, Taeyong presses his left hand against him. It’s the hands with their bonds tied together. Jaehyun closes his eyes. Between their palms is immediate warmth. Taeyong watches the flicker of fire dance on Jaehyun’s pale features and wonders, for the nth time, how this monster of a human can be so handsome. It’s almost unfair, honestly. Why can’t nice people be handsome too?

Nothing happens for a while, and Taeyong gets bored.

Another minute passes before Taeyong opens his mouth. “Is something going to happen?”

Something is happening. More specifically, Jaehyun is poking around on his side of the bond, trying to figure out what changed and, more importantly, why he hadn’t noticed. Before him are interwoven strands of gold and silver blue; an enforced connection. His chest tightens. Something is definitely happening, and Jaehyun doesn't like what he sees. He cracks one eye open, pasting on his cockiest grin. “No, I just wanted to touch your hand.”

“Ugh!” Taeyong smacks Jaehyun’s hand away. Then he groans and rubs his own hand that grows pink from, well, himself.

A scoff. “You literally did that to yourself. And I was kidding.”

Taeyong sticks out his tongue. “Well, what was that about?”

Jaehyun straightens, looking away. Should he say it? That the bond is growing stronger, that it might be more difficult to break it? But they’ve known this ever since the string began to lengthen, so that’s nothing new. Plus, Taeyong would probably freak out from being bonded to him, and he doesn’t want to deal with that anxiety. So he lies. “You wanted to know how to complete the bond, right? Touching and trusting are a part of it. I was giving a demonstration.”

Taeyong sniffs, unimpressed. “Seriously? You could’ve just said that.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to show than tell, princess. Soulmates is not just sex and games.”

Taeyong gasps. “So sex IS a part of it!”

Jaehyun ignores his dramatics. “Name another action that shows how much you trust a person with your heart, mind, body and soul.”

Taeyong looks at Jaehyun with a weird glint in his eyes that slowly slides into a teasing grin. Jaehyun quickly looks away, wearing a neutral expression. “Huh. Didn’t pin you as the romantic type.”

“I’m not.”

Taeyong hums teasingly. “Could’ve fooled me. Trusting a person with your heart, mind, body _and_ soul? That’s _so_ lame.”

“I don’t make the rules, kid.”

“You’re only a couple months older than me, grandpa.”

“That’s right. So you should be treating me with respect and stop asking so many damn questions,” Jaehyun grins, adding, “kid.”

“I’ll treat you however I want, gramps.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at Taeyong. Taeyong smiles back, baring all his teeth.

“I’m gonna go wash up. Pass my pack.”

Jaehyun throws Taeyong’s bag at his annoying face, and isn’t surprised when Taeyong catches it with ease and irritation on his face.

“Will you stop throwing things at my head?”

“Just keep catching them and you’ll be fine.”

“That makes no sense. Just stop doing it.”

“Stop whining and brush your teeth.”

Taeyong grumbles, but obediently goes. Jaehyun doesn’t think much of it until, a few minutes later, he catches Taeyong’s bag behind his head. The toothpaste, coming loose, smacks the side of his head. He drops it on the ground, and slowly glares at Taeyong’s round face, puffed up from holding in the laughter.

“Three.”

Taeyong blinks.

“Two.”

Taeyong runs.

He runs and runs and runs, laughing and gasping and almost tripping, but catches himself and runs again. He becomes a dark blue blur in the night. Jaehyun counts to zero before he gives chase.

Ha.

Taeyong is slower than he expects.

Taeyong glances back briefly and sees Jaehyun’s black silhouette eating up the forest ground at an alarming pace and squeals, screaming and oh-

He’s tackled to the ground. Falling on an arm. Tumbling. Rolling. He smells the cold and snow, grass and earth, trees and mud, smoky leather and white flowers.

Taeyong tries to shove Jaehyun off, but the latter throws his entire weight down on his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs, using the brief blank out to gather his wrists above his head. Jaehyun’s other hand slides to his chest, pushing him down.

Taeyong gasps, thrashes, struggles to break free. Jaehyun doesn’t give.

Jaehyun feels Taeyong’s heart racing under the pads of his fingers. Every point of contact burns with tingling heat. Gold energy hums through Jaehyun’s veins like electricity. Their gazes meet and Taeyong-

Taeyong’s eyes are bright and impossibly transparent like the bottom of a glass boat, revealing strength, joy, laughter-

Jaehyun feels his heart lurch.

“Oh c’mon! It was just a joke. Let me go.”

“No one was laughing,” whispers Jaehyun, staring deeply into crisp dark brown. He leans down involuntarily, tracing the shape of Taeyong’s lips with his eyes.

Taeyong’s breath hitches as he laughs again, the rumbles travelling down his body and through Jaehyun. “I was, you asshole. Now get off.”

But Jaehyun.

Jaehyun finds he doesn’t. Can’t.

“Jae?”

Taeyong tilts his head, oblivious to the breaths, the space, the crash of emotions-

Oh. _Oh god._

Jaehyun is gone before Taeyong’s next blink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean Jaehyun _feels_ things? Is there actual _emotional development_ in this?? I thought the story was about two _idiots_!! (GASP) It's wild. I know. Apologies for the slower chapter, I needed to get into the nitty gritty head space of Jaehyun, and also to clarify a few things. I hope the soulmate concept makes more sense now >< Things will slowly pick up ;) Take care, stay healthy and, as always, tread softly ♡


	13. 12

Taeyong and Jaehyun reach the bottom of the mountains which should by all means be a great development, but there is a scowl on Jaehyun’s face, one that's been there for a few days.

Taeyong bugs him about it, but Jaehyun gives him the silent treatment. Taeyong thinks he’s sulking, but values his life too much to point it out. In the meantime, he hopes that Doyoung and the others got his message. It was a risk, making that call from the bed and breakfast. Thankfully he wasn’t caught.

Even if he was, Jaehyun wouldn’t have been able to do anything to him. They were bonded. Still are. Anything Jaehyun does to him will be inflicted on Jaehyun too.

Wild, animalistic gold flickers in his memory, before drowning in black.

Fighting with Jaehyun, back to back, sparked something inside Taeyong. Something he's never felt before- not in any fight he's ever taken part of. But it doesn't come as a surprise, only as a discovery, because it's the first time he truly fought for his life. During the fight, his body moved instinctively to take the men down as swiftly as possible. There was no calculation, no finesse, no _points_ counted towards a victory. It was either win or lose, and he won. More importantly, he won _with Jaehyun._ He trusted the man to have his back and vice versa.

Now, he's almost Jaehyun won’t kill him and therefore not needing to live in constant fear, he’s at a loss.

Sure, Jaehyun left a trail of destruction at the village, but those men went after Jaehyun first.

And sure, Jaehyun’s killed countless people and ruined the lives of even more. In fact, he’s nowhere near a good guy. But…

He took care of Taeyong when Taeyong felt sick. He brought them to a bed and breakfast before it snowed. He made sure Taeyong had enough to eat and wear. The chicken skewers felt like an olive branch, a temporary truce...

“Why is this so complicated,” he complains loudly.

Jaehyun doesn’t respond, almost like he’s gotten used to Taeyong’s random outbursts. That in itself is weird as hell _._

With a sigh, Taeyong pulls the straps of his bag tighter around his body and continues their trek.

Jaehyun looks at the compass, studies the map he got from the market, and nods for them to set camp. Taeyong grimaces at the small clearing. It’s warmer and more humid again, the ground easily takes their footprints. It’s better than the cold, so he doesn’t complain. The tent is built, their thick layers are shucked into Taeyong’s pack, and Jaehyun throws two sweet potatoes under the fire.

Taeyong misses the chicken skewers, so he makes sad puppy eyes at Jaehyun, who for the most part ignores them.

Taeyong frowns. “Are we near a township or village?”

“Probably not.”

“But, say, what if we were? How far away would it be? Do you think we could stay at another bed and breakfast?”

“And risk getting attacked and running for the hills again? I don’t mind spilling blood, but you looked a little faint last time.”

Taeyong’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment, then realizes how strange it is to be embarrassed about feeling mentally and emotionally checked out after witnessing a violent bloodbath. He shoots Jaehyun a cool look. “You could wear a ski mask." Jaehyun slowly wipes the sweat with the back of his hand, leveling Taeyong with a pointed look. Taeyong continues, "Or scarf. Or surgical mask. You can probably pull off the hot doctor look."

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

Taeyong ignores him and makes restless movements from his small patch of dry dirt.

After another minute, Jaehyun turns to pin him with a look. "What?"

Taeyong blinks. "What?"

"You obviously have something to say, so say it."

“You won’t get mad at me?”

“No.”

“Your murderous instincts won’t get triggered?”

Jaehyun reaches for his pack- specifically, the biggest weapon he has, which is a sharp dagger. Taeyong flies over, throwing his body to stop Jaehyun from unsheathing the blade. “I was! Just. Kidding. Joke. Haha." Jaehyun shakes Taeyong's grip off, and looks at him expectantly. "Okay. I will preface with this: I’m not a picky eater, but I really miss those chicken skewers-”

A familiar tube of toothpaste smacks the side of Taeyong’s head. Taeyong pouts for the rest of the night, even as he nibbles at the perfectly cooked sweet potato.

“Stop pouting,” snaps Jaehyun without looking at him.

“The toothpaste thing wasn’t very nice. I could’ve gotten a concussion.” Taeyong juts out his bottom lip even more.

“Hm.”

“You could’ve gotten a concussion too. Then the bad guys would find us and kill us. And that’s really, really not good.”

“Oh. No.” Each syllable drips with sarcasm.

Not that it deters Taeong, as tears collect at the corners of his eyes. His bottom lip trembles a little.

Jaehyun glares at Taeyong over his sweet potato. “I don’t care about the theatrical display over there, but leave the bond alone. You’re getting loud and annoying.”

Taeyong blinks innocently. “Really? But I wasn’t doing anything.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes. Then he does something Taeyong's never seen him do. He physically turns to face his back at Taeyong, like a child. Taeyong blinks at his back for a moment, then turns his back too, just because.

“This is stupid,” he says after taking another bite of the sweet potato. “Some meat would be nice. I’ve lost ten pounds since we started this trip. That’s a little less than a pound a day.”

Jaehyun finishes his meal and tosses the peel and ends into the distance. “Sorry to hear that, but I really don’t give a fuck.”

“Weight I worked hard to gain, if you must know,” snaps Taeyong. “I used to work out a lot. Now I just spend my hours walking. _Walking_. My arms are flabby. My abs are nonexistent.”

Jaehyun takes a look over his shoulder, then nods his head like he agrees. Taeyong’s bristling in seconds. But Jaehyun ignores his indignant sputtering and says, “There’s a complaint box outside my office. You’re welcome to share your opinions there.”

Taeyong scowls. “I bet Jun is the only one who reads them, if there actually is one.”

Jaehyun shrugs, but doesn’t correct him. “The world needs less whiny complaints, more thought and action.”

“Ha! More thought and action? Have you ever done something for someone other than yourself?”

“If I did, I would risk the lives of those who trust me to put food on their table. Self interest is what drives this industry, Mr. Policeman.”

“More reason to shut it down, Mr. Drug dealer.”

“Pft. You might as well give up. You’d be up against me, and many others more ruthless and insane. Your moral compass wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“I am not the only one. Also, violent!”

“You mean realistic, in the context of this conversation. But sure, I'll take violent too.”

Taeyong opens his mouth, then closes it. He makes a frustrated sound, like he’s run out of words and only gibberish can express his feelings. Jaehyun rolls his eyes.

“Idiot.”

“Jerk!”

Taeyong turns as Jaehyun does the same. They share a short look of amusement before returning to their scowls. Taeyong looks away first.

“So, training,” starts Jaehyun.

“We are not training. Have you forgotten the last time we touched?”

“Cos every time we touch, I get this feeling?”

“...”

“And every time we kiss I swear-”

“That song technically hasn’t been released yet. It’s 1997. You’re eight years too early.”

“Technicalities.”

They bite back twin grins.

“So, training,” Jaehyun starts again, now playful.

“Nope.”

“Scared you’ll lose?”

“Scared I’ll die, actually.”

“So you _are_ scared.”

Taeyong inhales, exhales, and inhales again. “Fine, I am. A normal person wouldn’t feel _nothing_ after witnessing people being taken down the way you did, violent and without mercy. _None_ of your attackers moved when you were done with them.”

Jaehyun rubs the back of his neck like he’s rather proud of that accomplishment. Taeyong looks away from the fine display of biceps and triceps. “Easier that way. If you leave them to live, they’ll have a mountain of hospital bills to take care of.”

Taeyong narrows his eyes. “They’ll have a life left to live.”

Jaehyun shrugs, impassive. “A life they wouldn’t be able to afford.”

“Why does life mean so little to you? What does your life mean to you?”

The question hits deep. Jaehyun stares at the fire for a long moment before tilting his head to the sky. Surrounded by nature, the sky becomes clear of light pollution. The stars blink brightly back at him. The moon peeks out from a large cloud, a thin crescent of light. He exhales softly. “There are too many lives to consider them all. I’d rather live for myself than for a stranger.”

Taeyong makes a face, but feels his mood dampen anyway. He mutters, “Selfish.”

“If it means self-preservation, sure. At least I don’t have the tendency to stretch myself thin, promising more than I can give.”

Taeyong sweeps the unspoken accusation under the rug. He’s not about to contemplate philanthropy with a mass murderer. Instead he says, “So, training.”

It’s the right thing to say, because Jaehyun rises to his feet like he was expecting it. There’s a glint of excitement in his eyes too. It’s not bloodthirsty, but Taeyong worries that someone might accidentally die (that someone being him).

“Rules?” Jaehyun asks.

“Don’t break anything, for both of our sakes.”

Jaehyun snorts mockingly. “No touching?”

Suddenly, Taeyong kicks Jaehyun off his feet. The taller man lands gracelessly on his ass, but quickly flips to a crouching stance, glaring at Taeyong for the cheap shot. Taeyong grins right back. “You’d have to touch to land a hit, no?”

Jaehyun sneers, dusting his pants. “Don’t get smart with me. Punches only. Let’s see what they taught you up in the mountains.”

Taeyong throws the first punch. Jaehyun side-steps easily. “Way to generalize martial artists. I’ve never trained on mountains. You on the other hand,” he avoids Jaehyun’s jab, but the back of Jaehyun’s knuckle grazes his cheek, “you probably have.”

Jaehyun smirks, his left dimple making an appearance. “Of course I have.” He throws a succession of punches, most of which Taeyong dodge or side-step, but he eats a few too. Warmth and dull pain blooms on his right upper arm, below his left wrist, and somewhere just above his heart when he accidently leaves an opening.

It doesn’t hurt so much as it annoys Taeyong. Jaehyun is definitely holding back. He’s not throwing with conviction at all.

“That all you got?”

A flare of challenge crosses Jaehyun’s eyes, but Taeyong doesn’t give him time. He feints a punch to the left, hook, uppercut, two jabs to the left. Jaehyun takes one graze, then something in his stance shifts into serious mode. Taeyong immediately recognizes it, feeling a spike of adrenaline, and prepares himself.

“You favour your right hand. SAS training made you slower.” Jaehyun meets Taeyong’s last jab with the side of his palm, pushing his fist away and throwing a punch in the opening.

“I didn’t know critique was a part of this. Your aim-” Taeyong takes half a step forward, the rush of breeze carries to Jaehyun’s widening eyes, “needs work.” Taeyong throws a punch at Jaehyun’s throat, stopping just a breath away. “Point to me.”

Jaehyun’s eyes narrow. He backs away and gathers himself. “Careful what you wish for.”

“Please, you’re so slow even my see-fu’s grandmother can block you.”

Jaehyun, to his credit, did give Taeyong fair warning. They’re throwing punches, tumbling, chasing, using their environment to confuse, deflect, then landing more almost-blows. A few times they end up on the ground, grappling and overthrowing the other. Their actions still when Jaehyun has Taeyong pinned, one arm under his chin, wrists gathered uselessly. Taeyong struggles to break free.

Jaehyun laughs. “Am I still too slow? Does my aim still need work?”

The deep set dimples have got Taeyong’s brain short circuiting. Then he comes to, struggling even harder because not only is he pinned, not because the places they touch are warming up something pleasant and alluring, but because it is so damn unfair that Jaehyun looks so handsome. _Too bad_ _he’s a terrible person-_

Jaehyun grunts, rolling to his back as Taeyong gains footing, pushing him over. Their hands that were clenched in a bind come loose, and Taeyong quickly pins Jaehyun’s arms down.

“Too slow,” he grits, smirking. “Weak, too. I bet I’m stronger than you.”

Jaehyun’s arms slip out of Taeyong’s grip. He pulls Taeyong down by the shoulder, kicking himself up in a show of impressive gymnastics and pins Taeyong down again, all within a second. Taeyong eats dirt, his indignant shriek muffled by grass. Jaehyun’s got his arms behind him, like Jaehyun is the cop and he is the culprit in an arrest.

It's utterly humiliating. (His dick disagrees, to his internalized horror.)

“You were saying?” Comes the taunting voice somewhere behind, above.

“Mother fucker. Let go!” Taeyong shrieks, hoping Jaehyun wouldn’t feel anything through their bond. Only Jaehyun’s next sentence knocks his heart to his throat.

“But you have such a rush when you get into these positions. Remember the cabin? Good times.”

Taeyong snarls, struggling to break out of Jaehyun’s hold, but Jaehyun doesn’t give. This goes on for another minute before Taeyong lets his arms and legs fall limp, like he's given up. “Okay, fine. Fine! Point to you! Now let go, my arms are starting to get numb.”

“Don’t lie, it’s been thirty seconds. You can probably handle two more minutes of this.”

Taeyong doesn’t correct Jaehyun, whose estimation is too accurate to refute. Damn, how did he know? “We are _not_ staying in this position for another two minutes. _Let up_ , asshole!”

But Jaehyun doesn’t move, so Taeyong looks over his shoulder. There, in the depths of Jaehyun's gold eyes is something akin to hunger. A shiver runs down Taeyong’s spine.

“Jae.”

Jaehyun snaps out of it, jumping to his feet as though burned. Taeyong doesn’t look down to confirm the reactions their touches have on their bodies, he can basically feel it through their bond. But he does catch the way Jaehyun’s adam’s apple bobs and quickly looks away. He plucks his bag from the ground, covering his crotch with it.

A weird silence envelops them. Taeyong starts fidgeting.

“I have a question.”

“Hm?”

“Chii called you a singer. What was up with that?”

No response.

“You sing.”

Instead of the expected denial, Jaehyun shrugs.

Taeyong gapes, shocked. “You _sing?_ What do you sing?”

“Things,” Jaehyun shuffles uncomfortably under Taeyong’s wide-eyed curiosity. “I'm _not_ singing.”

“But how else would I know if you’re pulling my leg?”

“I don’t care.”

“Aw c’mon. Don’t be shy. You have a great voice. I bet it would sound great singing too.” The smile on Taeyong’s face is all butter. Jaehyun doesn’t buy it for even a second.

“Try harder.”

Taeyong does a double-take. “Oh, so there _is_ a price. I knew it!”

Jaehyun sighs explosively. “No, there really isn't. Stop this.”

“What would get you to sing?”

“Leave me alone.”

“But you just told me to try harder!” Taeyong grins in challenge. Jaehyun visibly gulps. “What will it take? I can sing something too. A song? A dance? No lap dance though.”

Jaehyun closes his mouth. The serious consideration falls on his face as his brows furrow like in deep concentration. Taeyong fidgets. Finally, he says, “Kiss me.”

Taeyong deadpans. “What the fuck. No.”

“Okay, then no singing.”

“Is it a song I’ll know?”

“Do you only listen to Cantonese songs?”

“I know some English and Korean songs too.”

“Then maybe.”

“Oh.”

Taeyong looks down, thinking it over very, very seriously, before nodding. He slowly approaches Jaehyun, cupping his cheeks with gentle hands, then kisses his cheek. He quickly pulls back, cheeks darken under the orange campfire light. Jaehyun blinks back a look of surprise, then frowns. “That’s it?”

Taeyong crosses his arms. “You didn’t say where.”

“Lame.”

Taeyong opens his mouth to argue, but then Jaehyun starts to sing.

At first, he is just humming a tune Taeyong is familiar with. Then he opens his mouth:

_“Somewhere over the rainbow_   
_Way up high_   
_There’s a land that I’ve heard of once_   
_In a lullaby.”_

Jaehyun has a surprisingly beautiful singing voice. Rich. Alto. Emotional. Taeyong never thought Jaehyun could or would sing in front of him. The song, too, is surprising. It featured in a musical about leaving home, going on a quest to arrive at a colourful place-

_Somewhere over the rainbow_   
_Skies are blue_   
_And the dreams that you dare to dream_   
_Really do come true._

Jaehyun reaches the apex of the first chorus, then stops.

Taeyong blinks. “Why did you stop?”

Jaehyun catches Taeyong's eyes for a brief moment, then points to his cheek. “That is what you get with this.”

“But it just got to the good part!”

Jaehyun shrugs. “So?”

“Stingy!”

A teasing grin curls at Jaehyun’s lips. “You know what to do.”

Taeyong follows Jaehyun’s finger pointing to his lips and sputters. “Ugh you’re such a pig! Absolutely no!”

Jaehyun shrugs. “Then that’s all you get.”

“But you want a _kiss_ , of all things?”

“You’re not exactly down to fuck.”

Taeyong scowls. “How romantic. You’re totally sweeping me off my feet.”

“I hardly need to be a romantic to sweep you off your feet. You’re very light.”

Taeyong tries to suppress his blush. Jaehyun pretends his words don’t affect him. They both fail quite spectacularly.

“F-forget this. I’m going to bed.” Taeyong sputters, unzipping the tent with choppy movements before quickly climbing in.

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” calls Jaehyun after him.

“You’re not exactly tucking me in!”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Argh! No!” Without another word, Taeyong shuffles into the tent and zips it up with a frazzled sigh. He sees Jaehyun’s shadow move beside the tent, sitting down. Taeyong rolls out his bed roll and lies on his back. The small fire dies down, the air getting colder. His heart calms gradually, breathing slow and steady.

_Someday I wish upon a star_   
_And wake up where the clouds are far behind me_   
_Where trouble melts like lemon drops_   
_Away above the chimney tops_   
_That’s where you’ll find me._

His eyes slide shut, the corners of his mouth curling into the slightest smile as little blue birds swoop into his dream.


	14. 13

“I miss coffee.”

“Hm.”

“Strawberry shortcake too.”

“Hm.”

“And chocolate mousse. Apple pie. Egg tarts. Oh, I really miss egg tarts.”

“Hm.”

“Do you have anything else to say besides ‘hm’?” Taeyong asks, a frown forming across his forehead.

Jaehyun glances at him briefly, wearing an annoying tilt to the corners of his mouth, and says, very deliberately, “Hm.”

Taeyong bristles. “I guess your vocabulary has shrunken to monosyllabic responses.”

“I guess you ran out of food to miss.”

“Not in a million years,” Taeyong refutes. “Have you ever tried the egg tarts from the bakery near Lyndhurst Terrace? Those were _heavenly_. Oh wait,” Taeyong pauses, mirth colouring his voice. “You don’t take breaks between being a murderous asshole, so I guess you wouldn’t know.”

“Meh, they’re okay,” replies Jaehyun after a pause.

Taeyong blinks back his surprise. “You’ve tried them?”

Jaehyun shrugs nonchalantly. A lot of things clang and clatter in his pack. “I get gifts.”

“From boyfriends?”

“From clients,” corrects Jaehyun, a twitch of irritation developing under his right eye. “Boyfriends? Really? Is that where you get your egg tarts from?”

“No, but I live in the city. I can get them anytime.” Taeyong wrinkles his nose. “Do these _clients_ send you gifts regularly?”

“Why? Are you going to report me to the anti-corruption commission?”

“Not that it would do anyone any good.” Jaehyun bites back a smirk as Taeyong rolls his eyes. “The Hong Kong government can press all the charges it wants. If you're not caught, justice will not be served.”

“Ow. Serving justice to your soulmate? That’s harsh.”

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Triggerhappy Killer.”

“If I really was trigger happy, I wouldn’t commit over half my life to hand to hand combat.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Those terms aren’t exactly mutually exclusive. If you had a gun you’d probably know how to shoot it.”

“Hm.”

Taeyong scowls. “There you go again-”

Jaehyun’s hand suddenly shoots out, stopping Taeyong in his tracks. Taeyong freezes, then slowly surveys their surroundings with hawk eyes and shallow breaths.

There, tucked behind a bush, is a brown rabbit.

“Hungry?”

Taeyong meets Jaehyun’s inquisitive gaze with a baffled expression. “Um, no?”

“Didn’t you say you were missing protein? This would set you straight.”

Taeyong deadpans. “Nothing would, as you say, set me straight.”

A flash of mirth passes Jaehyun’s eyes. “Fine. I’ll help myself.”

“Rabbit no!”

The rabbit darts away before Jaehyun throws his dagger. He levels Taeyong with a glowering expression. “Dude, what the hell was that?”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me, the rabbit is innocent!”

Jaehyun scoffs loudly. “Why are you romanticizing innocence? Do you only kill and eat animals that have sinned? In that case- do you know where the phrase ‘fuck like rabbits’ come from? Rabbits definitely sin.”

Taeyong looks horrified. “No, I- I’m just not that hungry!”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, muttering about soft-hearted idiots and slotting his dagger back into its hiding place. Taeyong casts a hopeful look into the forest, wishing the rabbit lives to see another day.

With a huff, Jaehyun sets a pace a little faster than normal. Taeyong, noticing the change, walks a little faster than Jaehyun. Jaehyun’s frown deepens as he speed-walks past Taeyong, and before they know it they’re breaking into a jog, then a sprint, all the way down a trodden path and around a small village. Taeyong's eyes light up. But almost immediately, he feels the bond around him secure twice fold, and scowls at the back of Jaehyun’s head for being so cautious. It’s the smart thing to do, but Taeyong still finds the bind suffocating. He hasn’t quite grasped how to control the length of the bond, not the way Jaehyun does. All he knows to do is to send constant pulses of emotions and thoughts through the bond to annoy Jaehyun.

He sighs at losing the chance to leave more messages to the nine dragons. He wonders if anyone's coming for him, since he's never heard from anyone and already it's been over two weeks. It’s not his best plan, but there aren’t many options.

Plus, Jaehyun quite literally overpowers him in strength, agility and experience. They've been training since that evening, from kicks only, to fighting with only the left arm and leg, then the right. It made their evenings more bearable, if not a little painful. To be fair, anything would be preferable to the occasional conversation, Taeyong's whining (which is starting to annoy even himself) and a thick silence, where both he and Jaehyun are deep in their thoughts.

Taeyong refuses to acknowledge the white elephant in the… er, forest.

It’s just Stockholm Syndrome. And maybe because Jaehyun is really handsome. But that’s it. There are no, ugh, emotions involved.

He’s been really good at controlling his impulses, he’s not about to break it now.

(The kiss, he thinks with a grimace and blush, was a lapse of judgment.)

_Anyway._

As they pass the village, Taeyong notices a new humidity in the air, like it’s about to rain. It’s thicker than on the nondescript dock in Vietnam. Surely they’re not going to take another ferry? How much farther are they going?

“Where are we?”

“Here.”

Taeyong scowls. “Can you give an answer that’s somewhat helpful? What does here even mean?”

“Here is what you perceive-” starts Jaehyun.  
“Wait-” cries Taeyong.

“What you smell, hear, feel, see and taste. Here is what anchors you to this moment. This moment alone. It proves that you are alive, and that everything you perceive exists.” Jaehyun lifts a hand and waves it around him for effect. He looks tenderly into nowhere, like lost in time.

Taeyong scrunches his nose. “I didn’t mean talk philosophy to me.”

“Ah, too bad. That’s the only answer you’ll get.”

“Weirdo.”

“Idiot.”

“Nutcase.”

“Shut-in.”

Taeyong takes the first swipe, kicking Jaehyun’s legs from underneath. Jaehyun barely flinches as he rolls to his front, then pushes off to kick Taeyong’s head. It’s blocked within a breath of hitting home, which means Jaehyun isn’t going in full. Taeyong smirks. He throws a series of punches, using a little over half his strength. Jaehyun blocks them with ease as they both feel bruises forming on their forearms.

They break into a scuffle where, seven minutes later, Taeyong sits on top of Jaehyun’s back, one arm twisted behind him, grinning in victory.

“Who were you calling shut-in again? Hm?”

A sigh. “You. Now get off of me.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“What?”

“There’s a magic word you say for when you want something.”

“...down to fuck?”

“What ew no!” Taeyong scrambles away, putting ten strides between them in an instant.

Jaehyun calmly climbs to his feet. “So predictable.”

Taeyong gives him the cold shoulder for approximately half an hour, then he gets bored and starts talking again. But as they make their way through the thick forest, the shrubbery gives way to something that makes Taeyong pause.

“Are we shipping?”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, approaching the small dock like he owns the place.

"It's a boat, not a ship, but sure.”

_[A moment of silence please. Thank you.]_

The barest frown wrinkles Taeyong’s forehead. “Again? Where are we going now?”

“Where we were always going.”

The vague answer feeds Taeyong's suspicion. It never occurred to Taeyong that Jaehyun might’ve changed his plans, or might’ve told him one location while bringing him to another. Though so far everything Jaehyun’s said made sense, there's enough proof of their surroundings that makes Taeyong believe they're travelling through countries to get to Laos, but Taeyong has no way to confirm this. He can't read Vietnamese, Laotian, or Thai. So he scowls. “That’s not helpful.”

Jaehyun ignores his accusing tone. “Stay here. If you try anything, the last time you saw your mother and sister would be the last time you ever saw them.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes, retorting that as far as villainous threats go, that wasn’t remotely convincing. He however does pipe down, kicking spots of dirt with a small pout, wondering if Jaehyun has eyes on his family. He wouldn’t put it past Jaehyun or Jun. Actually, mostly Jun. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to be one to obsess over details or logistics. He’s more the type to fight now, think later.

Jaehyun emerges from the small hut a moment later, tugging off the black fabric that obscured the bottom of his face. He nods at the boat and shoots Taeyong an expectant look like saying, _Well, what are you waiting for?_

Taeyong’s never been on a boat so small. He eyes it with a mix of distaste and distrust.

Jaehyun catches his expression. “You must know how to swim.”

Sure, Taeyong knows how to swim, but this is not about swimming. Jaehyun seems to have caught on, because a sly grin slowly slides onto his face.

“Don’t rock the boat,” teases Jaehyun.

“Don’t give me a reason to,” Taeyong grits, glaring back.

Jaehyun waits for Taeyong to climb on first, wedging their packs in the middle, before tossing in two oars. Taeyong catches them and, in haste rocks the boat.

“What did I say about rocking the boat?”

“That I should do it as often as I like?”

“That there are leeches and flesh-eating germs in these waters, if you want to bleed out here.”

Taeyong gulps, mouthing _flesh-eating germs_ while eyeing fearfully at the water. Jaehyun snorts, and rows them down the current. To be fair, he doesn’t need to do much rowing. The current is strong and steady, and steers their boat at a comfortable pace. Occasionally Jaehyun corrects their direction to avoid hitting rocks. Not that he plans to return the boat- he’d already bought it off the owner, but he's working with a tight schedule, and having a boat that stays afloat is more helpful than one that has a hole in it.

For half a day their boat sails, coursing through rough rapids in spots, calm waters in others. Meanwhile, a thin layer of fog falls upon them, making it harder to see.

“Wow, your very own cloaking device. How convenient,” Taeyong comments, squinting to see through the fog.

Instead of the jab or insult he expects, a frown etches across Jaehyun’s forehead. “Hardly, but we don’t have a choice.”

Taeyong stares at the concerned look on Jaehyun's face, then looks away again. "It's not dangerous, is it?"

"We'll be fine."

Jaehyun is using the tone that brooks no argument, so Taeyong settles on the bench a little and sighs. At least they're still moving, and have yet to hit anything.

Somewhere between the boat’s smooth sailing, the warm breeze in his hair, the stifling heat filling his lungs, and the gentle sounds of nature around him, Taeyong’s eyelids droop, flutter open, then droop some more.

It’s some time later when Taeyong wakes up. The first thing he notices is the humidity in the air, then the sound of falling water that gradually gets louder and louder. He blinks, pulling himself up from his slouched position, and sees Jaehyun wiping sweat from his forehead. A teasing smile breaks across his lips.

"Ha, you're out of shape too!"

"My muscles don't go away just because I miss a few gym days," Jaehyun grumbles. "You, on the other hand, fell asleep _again._ "

"What can I say? The ride was smooth and comfortable," defends Taeyong, embarrassed and miffed. With that, he turns his attention to his surroundings again and gasps. Very loudly. (In the back of his mind he’s equally surprised that he’s not a meal for a hundred lucky mosquitoes.)

They somehow drifted to what looks to be some kind of alcove that’s grown into a biosystem of its own. The first thing he sees (and hears) is the small waterfall, no wider than the boat, guiding crystal splashes into the marsh underneath. The water is surprisingly clear, reflecting the late afternoon sun on its surface. Beyond that is a thick forestry that weaves through rocks and ground, creating a beautiful, intricate pattern. Weeping willows and vines hang from the sky to graze the surface of water. The mist has all but cleared. It's like something from a fairytale. A place where water nymphs would spontaneously gather, sing songs, and play with other woodland creatures.

Taeyong turns to Jaehyun, breathless wonder in his wide eyes.

“Where are we?”

Their eyes lock into a stare, but Jaehyun doesn't answer. Taeyong tries to read Jaehyun's neutral expression, but all he sees is the quiet, unyielding strength that Jaehyun always wears on his skin. He frowns, leaning forward, and Jaehyun's eyes widen. Suddenly there is a flash of softness, gone as quickly as it appeared.

Taeyong clears his throat and looks away. "Fine. It's not like I'd know where we are anyway. What are we doing here?"

Jaehyun sighs softly, then turns to the sky. “It would be any time now.”

“What-”

“Just wait.”

Taeyong frowns. Jaehyun averts his eyes, scratching the back of his neck. Seeing as no straight answer is forthcoming, Taeyong settles back onto the bench.

Together, they wait in silence.

For a long time, nothing happens. Taeyong begins to feel a little restless from doing nothing, so he wrings his fingers and bites his nail. Jaehyun smacks his hand away and mutters about bad habits. Taeyong mimics his words mockingly, until it happens.

Taeyong gasps.

The sun dips just enough that its rays bounce from the soft water particles of the waterfall to create the most beautiful rainbow Taeyong’s ever seen. Hanging just above the alcove, it completes the magical fairytale image. It’s breathtaking. A minute later Taeyong remembers that he is not alone and glances at Jaehyun. What he sees makes him want to look away, but he finds it very challenging.

Jaehyun wears the same expression as he did in that brief moment of softness. He watches Taeyong like Taeyong watches the rainbow, like he's seeing something for the first time, and possibly the last. Like he wants to capture the moment, the beauty in his memory forever. Like his breath is taken away, stunned by the emotions the atmosphere created. The slowly opening brightness in his eyes makes something in Taeyong’s chest swell.

Taeyong forces the internal screaming to calm the fuck down please, he's trying to behave like a normal person.

Was this what you wanted to show me?”

“It was as I remembered it,” replies Jaehyun cryptically, after a pause. A soft grin grazes his lips. “It’s nice to see it again.”

Taeyong grows silent.

The light show dims after another minute, erasing the rainbow. It breaks the spell. Without another word, Jaehyun rows them out of the alcove and back onto Mekong river, to wherever they’re going.

“We’re going too slowly,” complains Taeyong.

“Well, it would be nice if you could help out once in a while, princess,” snaps Jaehyun.

“Help a mindless murderer get me to god knows where? No thanks.”

“Do you want to die here?”

“It’s not a bad place to go; the place you just brought us to was really pretty.”

Taeyong can see that Jaehyun is physically holding himself back from sputtering, and counts it as a win. Jaehyun recovers quickly, coughing into his fist.

“Does this mean you wouldn’t mind dying with me?”

“Oh.” Taeyong reconsiders, turning to the waterway ahead so Jaehyun cannot read his lie. “....good point.”

After that, Taeyong takes the role of the lookout while Jaehyun, sitting in the back of the boat, rows and steers some more.

It’s late afternoon when Jaehyun stops to look at his surroundings, noting the occasional small settlement and plots of farmland with a firm nod, like he knows where they are. Meanwhile Taeyong is convinced that they’re lost. They’re probably going in circles to throw Taeyong off, or the pursuers. Taeyong's not really sure of what's going on anymore, or where he is situated, for that matter.

Finally, Jaehyun takes the map out, folding it over his hunched shoulder. Taeyong perks up. _Of course_ Jaehyun had a map! If Taeyong can get a glimpse of it, he can figure where he is!

“Where are we?”

Jaehyun gathers the map closer to himself a bit. “On the Mekong River.”

Taeyong wiggles over, pawing Jaehyun’s arm. “Let me see.”

“You don’t even know where we are.”

“You’re right, I don’t. Which means it wouldn’t hurt if I took a look, right?” To emphasize his point, Taeyong bats his eyelashes.

Jaehyun shoots Taeyong a cool glare. “As if I’d fall for that.”

“What?” More eyelash-batting. “I just randomly feel like studying the geography of um, Vietnam, Laos and Thailand. All of a sudden. Just one look. One peek!”

Jaehyun looks down at the map, back up to Taeyong’s glittering eyes, and points to his lips. “Okay. Kiss me and you can have one peek.”

Taeyong jumps- or as much as he can without tipping off the boat that suddenly feels too small. Hell, the biggest cruise would feel too small when Jaehyun is on it. His presence is too warm, too steady, too… all-encompassing. Including the hand around his wrist, stopping him from toppling over, and the slight frown etched to his eyebrows, the quirk to one corner of his mouth.

“That’s all it takes to make you fall for me huh?”

Heat creeps on Taeyong’s cheeks. He pulls his hand back, and feels Jaehyun’s firm grip slowly loosen until his hand comes off. “I slipped.”

“Right.”

Then, a strange feeling rushes through Taeyong.

“One kiss and the map is mine.”

If Jaehyun is surprised at his change of mind it doesn’t show on his face. He scoffs. “One minute with the map.”

“C’mon, you know you’re shit at navigation. Just tell me where we need to go and I’ll get us there.”

Jaehyun pulls into a serious face and contemplates for a long time. FInally he nods. “Sure. But first, kiss me.”

Taeyong sighs in exasperation. With measured steps, he inches to Jaehyun, pressing his finger against his lips before repeating the same motion against Jaehyun’s lips.

_...surprisingly soft._

“That’s not how to kiss.”

Before Taeyong has a chance to protest, (not that he would’ve, but that’s not the point, damnit!) Jaehyun cradles a warm hand around Taeyong’s neck, the other across his hip to steady him, guiding him within a breath away. Then he pauses, staring at Taeyong with a soft, inquisitive look in his eyes.

Taeyong freezes.

“This is not a good idea,” Taeyong mumbles.

“That’s okay,” replies Jaehyun, just as quietly.

“We still need to sever the bond…”

“Mm.”

Taeyong is running out of excuses, and the open emotions in Jaehyun's eyes really is too alluring. Taeyong unconsciously glances down at Jaehyun’s lips, then back up. He knows he shouldn’t. He squeezes his eyes shut and gently leans forward.

A brush.

Barely a touch.

The bond sings gold and ice blue, but it’s nothing compared with the soft sweetness that Taeyong wants to savour again. And again. His heart wreaks havoc in his chest, his heartbeat a thunderous storm in his reddened ears. If he was asked, he would say he didn’t know what made him do it, but he presses more insistently against Jaehyun.

_C’mon, give me a response. Anything._

It feels like learning to breathe again. The breeze that rushes through his mouth, into his lungs and veins to around his body buzzes with energy. Jaehyun’s soft lips move against him with a slow dominance. A choked sob threatens to rip from Taeyong’s throat.

He’s never… ever felt anything like this.

He breaks away first.

“Um. The, the.” he struggles to find the words.

The map falls on his open hands, and Taeyong spends the next two minutes obsessing over the green and blue, the lines and shapes, vehemently ignoring the man in front of him. He doesn’t know that he’s sending all these impulses through the bond, doesn’t know that Jaehyun feels what he’s feeling, and that Jaehyun’s own emotions are mixing in. All he knows is that he needs to calm his heart and he needs to figure out where he is so he can leave more hints for his dragons to find him.

He easily locates the Mekong River, then tries to recall all the landmarks in the area. He frowns, putting the pieces together.

Another minute later, he looks up, confusion across his face. This isn’t the right direction. The boat was a detour. They’re taking a longer route. But why? To avoid the enemies? To throw Taeyong off? Jaehyun is clearly aware of this, if the painfully neutral look on his face is anything to go by.

“We’re on the wrong track,” he says finally, confused.

Jaehyun stares at him for a long moment, then shrugs. “Hm.”

“Why are we going this way? It can’t be faster than walking across to get to Chiang Mai. Do we have pursuers? How did you even get this information? What-”

Jaehyun steals the map back, hushing Taeyong with a look, and continues rowing.

Taeyong gulps, his heart pounding for another reason completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY. FINALLY. KISSED.
> 
> Did you groan at the shipping joke? Was I the only one? Will they ever get around to banging? _ahemimean-_. The next chapter is going to be challenging, so I can't promise the same weekly update, but I will try my best! Thank you for your readership and for leaving sweet, thoughtful, funny comments ♡ Thank you for the kudos and bookmarks too ♡ I hope you enjoyed this update!


	15. 14

“What. The. Fuck.”

“It’s not the end of the world.”

Jun scoffs in disbelief. “No? Really. Leaving a heap of corpses where we can’t get rid of the evidence is nothing to worry about? You’re basically painting a neon sign above your fucking head that screams ‘I’m in your backyard! Come get me!’”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“We don’t need more threats to your life,” snaps Jun after a tight pause. “If you go down, your operation loses its biggest figurehead. There are others already threatening to step in.”

“Or up. I know. I trust you’ve kept a close eye on them.”

Jun makes an impatient sound. “Who do you take me for? Of course I have.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about.”

Jun sighs, and Jaehyun hears some rustling on his side. He’s probably scrubbing his face in frustration. The mental image lifts Jaehyun's mood a little. “The least you can do is clean up after yourself. You’re losing your touch.”

“Losing my touch is dying by the hands of a couple of ruffians who don’t know how to throw a good punch. As it were, I’m alive and _kicking_. I wasn’t going to stay around to see if more of them would show up.”

“Pft.” Jaehyun hears the eye roll in Jun’s voice and smiles to himself. “Where did you say you were?”

“It’s been three days since we’ve disembarked Mekong River. We’re skirting Chiang Mai to get to Pai.”

Jaehyun skips the part where he admits not needing to sail down the river. He’s already come up with a reason: the route, though scenic, would throw tails off. But Jun doesn’t ask, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“Right. Have you memorized the safe house address?”

“Mm.”

“No will meet you there.”

“Mm.”

“Keep low. We don’t need anymore attention.”

“Mm.”

A pause, then: “Anything else?”

Jaehyun pauses, thinking. Then he says: “Stop fucking around in my office.”

Jun replies immediately: “It won’t be your office if you don’t come back soon.”

“Jun.”

“Boss.”

Jaehyun’s glare hardens, but the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk all the same. “That wasn’t cute.”

Another condescending snort. “You’re not paying me to be cute. Anyway, I’ve already scouted return flights. You’ll get a ticket once you rendezvous with No.”

Jaehyun bites his lip. “Hm.”

“Take care, boss.”

It’s redundant, but Jaehyun appreciates it all the same. He grunts in response, cutting the connection.

“Last I checked, eavesdropping is impolite in any culture,” he chides lightly, staring directly into a spot in the forest.

A shuffle comes from behind a thicker tree, and Taeyong steps out with red cheeks, embarrassed from being caught so easily. “I was just taking a piss.”

Jaehyun spares a glance to the front of Taeyong’s pants before arching an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Taeyong sticks his tongue out, but his attention soon wounds up on the phone in Jaehyun's hand. A strange possessive feeling tugs at Jaehyun's heart. “Mind if I made a call to report my safety? It’s been weeks. My friends-”

“-is doing every well, and not at all worried that you accidentally fell and broke your leg, which was why you couldn’t report to work,” interrupts Jaehyun with a mischievous grin. “Your department was notified, and everyone’s concerns were placated.” _No one is looking for you._

Taeyong glares at Jaehyun, imagining the faction leader to spontaneously combust. It doesn't happen. With a huff, Taeyong stomps back to the tent, kicking a stone out of his path. “So much for eavesdropping. You haven’t talked about anything I didn’t already know,” he grumbles loud enough for Jaehyun to hear.

Jaehyun shrugs, tucking the phone away. He’d known he was followed within seconds of Taeyong leaving the tent. The policeman makes too much noise. “Aw, too bad. You could kiss me if you want to know more.”

Taeyong ducks his head, hiding his eyes and cheeks. Jaehyun imagines the endearing blush and almost breaks into a smile. He also almost runs into a Taeyong who randomly decides to stop mid-step.

“Still, I want to make a call.”

“Sure, only it’s to call off your back up.”

Taeyong blinks innocently. “What are you talking about?"

Jaehyun arches a brow. “Ever heard of the redial button?”

Taeyong opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out. He makes a frustrated sound which Jaehyun ignores (but inwardly chuckles to).

As they reach the tent, Jaehyun crawls in first and leaves Taeyong standing in front, confused.

“What are you doing?”

Jaehyun pokes his head out of the tent and grins widely- dimples, teeth, and all. “You’re awake anyway. Might as well take watch.”

Jaehyun zips the tent and lies down, snickering as Taeyong cusses in all the languages he knows.

Jaehyun hears Taeyong waking up to the field rooster’s call, half an hour before the break of dawn. He resumes packing his bed roll. Taeyong lets out a long, drawn sigh, and more shuffling can be heard until the tent zips down and Taeyong tiredly goes through his morning routine. Brushing teeth, packing bed and tent, changing clothes…

Taeyong quickly turns around, covering his chest with his arms to avoid Jaehyun’s stare.

“Creep.”

“Prude.”

“Voyeur.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes. “Can’t multitask? Or do you like to take your time putting on that shirt?”

Taeyong hurries through his morning routine after that, face bright red.

“So, what’s for breakfast?”

“Tree bark and dung beetle tea.”

“Nutritious. Seriously though, what are we eating?”

“...”

“Hm?”

“Maybe I could have you for breakfast. How does that sound?”

“...not very nice. Maybe you should um, take a walk in the trees. Hunt for a rabbit or something.” And jerk off, Taeyong’s mind helpfully supplies.

Only Jaehyun isn’t ignorant to his train of thought, or maybe because he can actually feel the impulses through their bond. He takes a step closer, hovering just above Taeyong: “Y'know, that time you rubbed one out in the cabin, I felt every moment of it.”

Taeyong looks equally embarrassed and horrified. “That’s not a very appropriate, over-the-breakfast topic.”

“Really? I was told I was great at pillow talk.”

A weight drops in Taeyong’s stomach. He looks away, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Fantastic. I don’t care. We’re not about to fuck in a forest.” Without waiting for a reply, Taeyong hurries away. But something stops him in his tracks, glancing back to Jaehyun. “Did you really feel it, or are you just making shit up?”

Jaehyun slowly rises to his feet, straightening to his full height. “Want me to demonstrate?”

Taeyong quickly shrinks back. “Verbal confirmation works just fine.”

“I see.” The smirk on Jaehyun’s face widens a fraction. “In that case: yes, I felt everything.”

Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut and wills his cheeks and ears to stop burning. “Great. Abso-fucking-lutely fantastic.”

Taeyong quickly escapes to his morning routine, lamenting that this is dangerous territory.

Jaehyun puts away the tent, lamenting that this is dangerous territory.

They keep their thoughts to themselves.

After a while, they’re on the road again. Since they’re near Chiang Mai, there are more people around and Jaehyun’s face is once again obscured by a thin black scarf. It’s suspicious, but only a small price to pay when the alternative is fighting for their lives against, well, anyone.

They trek for hours and hours through dense forests, across narrow rivers, along forgotten dirt paths. The sun is hot and bright in the sky, as it has been for days. Taeyong’s gotten a really nice tan while Jaehyun remains as pale as ever. It makes no sense, and Taeyong complains about his t-shirt tan, the heat, and why it’s taking them so long to get to Pai.

Jaehyun won’t admit to dragging his feet, but he doesn’t want to go any faster either. Taeyong shoots curious glances at him. As usual, Jaehyun ignores them.

“Weren’t we in a hurry?”

“Hm.”

“We literally crossed two country borders in two weeks just to drag our feet here.” Taeyong stares at him in confusion. “What’s going on? Is this because of the phone call? Did Jun tell you to go slower?”

 _The opposite actually_ , Jaehyun thinks to himself. He says, “Stop asking so many questions.”

“Then give me straight answers.”

“Much like your sexuality then, hm?”

“And yours.”

They both bite back poorly concealed smiles. Jaehyun recovers first, shaking his head a little. “Maybe you should trust me more.”

“Fine, don’t tell me.” It’s not like Taeyong to give up so quickly, so Jaehyun readies himself for the unexpected. “Why won’t you let me use your phone?”

_Ah, the phone again._

“Don’t ask dumb questions.”

“It’s not dumb.” Taeyong crosses his arms. “In fact, you have to do this thing called communication to let others know what you’re thinking. But I guess that’s not something you’re familiar with, huh?”

“Keep your sarcasm to yourself.”

“Ugh, you have no regard for your travel mates!”

“I regard my travel mate just fine. I regard him when he wakes up. I regard him as he brushes his teeth half-asleep. I regard him as he struggles to dress himself-”

Taeyong throws the first punch (again) and they end up in a tussle on the ground like five year olds.

Jaehyun’s been able to accurately predict Taeyong’s attacks recently, and wonders if it’s because he and Taeyong have basically been fighting every single day since the cabin, or if he can feel and anticipate it from the bond. He tucks this thought to the back of his mind, something to think about when they’re not fighting or on the run.

Before long, Jaehyun takes the upper hand and pins Taeyong down.

“I regard him as he fights.” His grin widens as Taeyong tries to throw him off. “Then I regard him as he struggles to win the fights.”

Taeyong lets out a snarl, baring his teeth. “That’s only because I’m holding back!”

“Why would you ever hold back against an enemy?”

Taeyong grows quiet, and so does Jaehyun. When was the last time they’ve seriously considered each other as enemies? His grip slacks momentarily, and Taeyong takes the opportunity to throw him to the ground, rolling above. Jaehyun’s arms and legs are quickly pinned down, but it shouldn’t hurt too much. He will only start feeling numb after another two minutes. Probably.

Then Taeyong does something that makes Jaehyun’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

“... are you feeling me up?”

“Stay still!”

To Jaehyun’s credit, he does for all of thirty seconds because it is kind of unexpected, and kind of sexy. Taeyong runs his hands up and down his front and sides in a kind of hurried, impersonal way. Then he realizes Taeyong’s looking for something- like the phone that’s tucked away in the false back pocket in his pants, and he sighs.

_Would’ve been nicer if this played out like it did in his imagination. Oh well._

“Try the pocket.”

Taeyong frowns at him, but digs his hand into the left pocket. “It’s empty.”

“The other one.”

Annoyed, Taeyong jabs his hand into the right pocket and feels it empty. “What are you playing at?”

“It’s on the inside of my pants-”

Jaehyun pushes his hips up, giving ample space for Taeyong to slide his hand into his pants. Only Taeyong jumps ten feet away, turning red as a tomato (as expected) and stammers, “W-w-what were you doing! I wasn’t looking for that!”

Jaehyun snorts. He wiggles the phone out from the inside of his pants, waving it tauntingly in front of Taeyong. “Please, I’m definitely bigger than this Nokia. You should know, you’ve seen it.”

Taeyong’s blush deepens.

“Fuck off! Gimme the phone.”

“What will I get in return?”

Taeyong scrunches up his face in a thoughtful scowl. “...my eternal gratitude?”

Jaehyun dusts off his pants. “Shit deal. Can’t even eat that.”

“What do you want then?” Taeyong’s eyes narrow. “You better hold up your end of the bargain, whatever you’re asking me to do.”

Jaehyun feigns a hurt expression. “Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?”

They share a look, and Jaehyun sees a flash of reluctance quickly replaced by something firm and sure. Jaehyun almost double-takes at the change. Three weeks ago Taeyong wouldn’t trust him as far as he could throw him.

“Fine,” says Taeyong after a pause. “So, what’s the price?”

_Hm.._

Jaehyun lowers his gaze to Taeyong’s lips and says plainly, with a cocky grin, “You know the drill.”

Taeoyng does, if the emotions that flash across his eyes are anything to go by. Jaehyun reads anger, hesitation, and very quickly, annoyed acceptance.

“Can you be more creative?” grumbles Taeyong as he straddles Jaehyun’s thigh.

“Hm,” is all Jaehyun manages before Taeyong tugs down his scarf and claims his mouth in a kiss.

Taeyong doesn’t hold back. He kisses with everything he feels, the torrent of emotions bleeding into their bond that hums with warm delight. Jaehyun lets Taeyong move against him, biting and licking with an urgency, until a particularly hard nip punctures the skin of Jaehyun’s bottom lip.

Taeyong pulls back immediately, eyes wide in shock, but Jaehyun quickly reaches around his neck and tugs him in again. This time, he leads the kiss.

Jaehyun kisses slowly, languidly, like guiding Taeyong. Taeyong’s lips aren’t soft, pliant or nice to kiss, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm as he follows Jaehyun’s lead. Jaehyun runs his tongue along the outline. When Taeyong’s breath hitches, he steals inside, slowly licking and tasting and inhaling everything that is Taeyong.

In response, Taeyong makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. It must be involuntary, because his eyes are firmly shut, not the wide-eyed shocked expression he’d wear had he been aware of it. Jaehyun snorts softly, tilting his head for a better angle and presses close again.

Glittering gold wraps threads around his core, sending waves of warmth _powercontrol_ into his veins and- it’s stupid, so stupid, but he doesn’t want to stop. Taeyong tastes so good, reacts so nicely-

A snap of branches.

Jaehyun throws Taeyong under him in a second, a blade in his palm as he glares into the forest.

A tense silence follows.

Jaehyun takes a swift look around, hand pressing firmly on Taeyong’s chest, telling him to stay down. Taeyong doesn’t move or utter a sound. Another minute passes, still nothing. Jaehyun shoots a warning look at Taeyong to tell him to stay, then he leaps into the direction of the sound.

Taeyong counts to ten before quickly dialing a memorized number into the phone that slipped from Jaehyun’s hand.

“Pai in a day. Nomads-”

The dial tone echoes through the speaker as the phone slips from Taeyong’s sweaty hand. He gulps, looking up to see Jaehyun arching a brow as he dangles a tube of toothpaste pinched between his thumb and index finger.

“You snake.”

Taeyong swallows. “Dragon, actually. It can be hard to tell apart if you have a slower brain, but one is mythical, majestic and flies, the other eats rats and slithers-”

Jaehyun shuts him up with a hard kiss. Taeyong grunts, mouth opening to protest, and Jaehyun pushes forward. His hand runs up Taeyong’s neck to grip his jaw. Twisting it, he exposes Taeyong’s fair neck that is speckled with sweat and licks a fat stripe from the base to just behind the ear.

“Not,” Jaehyun captures Taeyong’s ear lobe between his teeth, nibbling hard enough to be a warning. His voice drops. “your smartest move, Lee Taeyong.”

His voice sends a shiver down Taeyong’s spine, pooling in his abdomen where he feels his core warming up something dark and heedy. The spike of pleasure has immediate results, one that Jaehyun feels as he grins into the soft of Taeyong’s neck. His hand slides up to apply a gentle, warning pressure on either side of Taeyong’s neck, and fights the urge to grind down.

Taeyong hisses. Whether it’s from the discomfort or the warming pleasure humming in their bond is hard to tell, but Jaehyun doesn’t care to figure that one out right now.

“What-”

“Don’t do that again.”

Taeyong glares back defiantly. “Or what?”

Jaehyun snorts. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

Taeyong tries to push himself off the ground but Jaehyun pins him down doubly hard. The grip around his neck tightens to pain. Taeyong looks fearfully up at Jaehyun, knowing this beast of a man can easily crush his windpipe.

“You couldn’t respect the deal.” Jaehyun’s face twists into a cool, dead gaze and grim smile. “So wouldn’t you say it’s fair that I returned the favour?”

“Fair? Are you even hearing yourself? Or have you forgotten that you took me here without consent? You have no right to talk about fairness!”

“The longer we stay bonded, the harder it is to break the bond. Staying bonded is not an option. You know this.”

Taeyong feels anger bubbling in his veins. He pushes himself off, surprised by his strength, but carries through. He grips around Jaehyun’s hand that is wrapped around his neck. They kneel, eye to eye, shallow breaths mingling. The air freezes around them, thick enough to cut with a dagger.

“I fucking get that! But you still have reservations with me- you can’t even tell me why we’re dragging our feet, why we took the detour, why we stayed at the bed and breakfast! You claim fairness when you break down my walls, but you’re doing the exact opposite! All you do is erect walls around you, protecting yourself from everything! This is dangerous for me, maybe even more than for you! I had no idea what I was forced into, had no time to prepare! And don’t even get me started on how easy it is for you to maneuver the bond while I-I.”

“You what? Is this so bad for you? Have I not given you enough to eat, drink, and wear? Did I not protect you?”

“Control was taken away from me from the very beginning, asshole.” Jaehyun stuns into silence. “I’m trying to accept that, but it’s not easy when I’ve spent my life being independent. I just. Is there really no other way to break this bond?”

Jaehyun watches Taeyong try to slow down his breathing and gain some control over himself. His hands have balled into fists, shaking in his lap. Guilt pools in Jaehyun’s stomach. An apology crawls to the tip of his tongue.

“This is the only way I know,” then, more quietly, “I’m sorry.”

A long silence drags between them as they watch each other.

“I’ve already told you this: I don’t plan to die here. Not at the hands of the small town ruffians, and definitely not fighting your family of dragons. All I want is to break this bond and go back to my life. Though,” he sighs, leaning forward as Taeyong shrinks back, “it would be nice if we fucked out this tension, too.”

Taeyong opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish, redness seeping into his cheeks and making him look like a tomato.

Then Jaehyun snorts softly, pulling away.

“I’m kidding.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you popping a tent?”

Jaehyun turns slowly, giving Taeyong a look like wondering if he’s intentionally being daft. “Because, Mr. Policeman, you are nice to look at and I, unlike you, haven’t rubbed one out since being bonded. So forgive my libido, it’s just reacting very normally to a sexually tense situation.”

“...oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

Jaehyun sniffs, adjusting his pants before pocketing the forgotten phone. But a hand on his arm stops him in his tracks. He slowly turns to see a strange glint in Taeyong’s eyes. It’s the same look when they shared the bubble bath, Jaehyun asked Taeyong for a back scrub, and Taeyong admitted to liking men.

“Taeyong.”

“...”

“You’re sending hella mixed messages here.”

“I know. Fuck. Just. Just give me a minute to figure this out.”

“Hm.”

Jaehyun counts to sixty. Then he feels something in the bond give, like a breath of fresh air. A weight lifts from his chest, and he looks at Taeyong with shocked eyes.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay. But we’re going by my rules.”


	16. 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that the rating has changed for this chapter. If you are not old enough or cannot handle mature themes, please skip this chapter. Thank you!

“Which are?”

“I lead.”

“And if I say no?”

“No nut for you.”

“...maybe I should rub one out right now just so you know how it feels to be on the other side of the bond.”

Taeyong almost pulls back again, but he stands his ground. Jaehyun counts that as character development. “You wouldn’t!”

Jaehyun lets out the breath he was holding, and leans back. “Fine, your rules.”

Taeyong begins to protest, until Jaehyun’s words actually register. He looks surprised, which is then replaced with single-minded determination. He closes in on Jaehyun who, for the first time in so long, feels a strange sense of unease But he doesn’t try to kiss Jaehyun again. However he nuzzles into the soft skin under Jaehyun’s jawline while he struggles to undo the utility belt.

“I can do it,” Jaehyun volunteers, only to have Taeyong swat his hand away and finally undoing the belt with an air of accomplishment. Taeyong quickly shucks off his clothes and kneels in front of Jaehyun’s reclined body.

Not for the first time, Jaehyun openly stares at Taeyong’s body. The setting sun kisses his skin with darks and lights that likens him to a sculpture. He is trim and muscular, and the tattoo on his back extends beyond the canvas to wrap around his shoulders and ribs. It cages Taeyong’s frontal view with dark, delicious mystery. And his face, wide eyes and soft, round lips contrasts his other sharp angular features. A delicate balance of childish guilelessness and perceptive manipulation. The sharpest dagger wrapped in the smoothest silk.

In a word, he is perfect.

For a moment, all they do is stare. Then a blush creeps across the bridge of Taeyong’s nose and tips of his ears, and Jaehyun fights off a scoff. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”

“No, you’re just really handsome.” Then, like his brain caught up with the words he just uttered, Taeyong backtracks. “I mean in an objective way. Most people would find you visually attractive.”

Jaehyun snorts. “Oh?”

Taeyong scrunches his nose. “Bet that’s your game, how you lure a tonne of people to sleep with you.”

“I don’t play games,” Jaehyun clarifies with a frown, propping himself up on his elbows. “And there weren’t many.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m a wanted criminal. The association is enough to make anyone think twice before even approaching me. The idea is much less attractive than what Hollywood glamorizes to be.”

“Please, people have fucked for a lot less. I’ve met my share at work.” Taeyong places one hand on Jaehyun’s shin, brushing past a scar and stopping just below the hem of Jaehyun’s boxers. “Some people live and breathe the thrill of chasing after danger, putting themselves in a shitty situation for some kind of release…”

The irony is not lost on Jaehyun. Taeyong is doing the same as he described, chasing after danger at work, willingly putting himself in a shitty situation for some kind of release. What Taeyong stood for, he currently works against by being closer to Jaehyun.

A sudden impulse to scratch and crawl out of his skin hits Jaehyun. What was he thinking? _What are they doing?_ His pants are tossed somewhere, his t-shirt riding up his midriff and his half-hard erection between his legs.

 _Release? Giving into losing control? Being_ vulnerable?

_How could he?_

“You have no idea how many people think they can handle danger but, when there are no drugs or incentive on the table, will run far, far away. These scars and tattoos are not toothsome. My reputation even less so. Everyone is scared of me.” He grumbles, roughly standing to his feet. He quickly reaches for his pants and tugs them on.

Taeyong, who is still only wearing his boxers, glares hard at Jaehyun and clamps a hand around his arm, stilling his movements for the second time that day. “What are you doing?”

“We still have a long way to go to get to Pai by tomorrow.”

Jaehyun shakes off Taeyong’s hand, but gets thrown into the dirt instead when a pair of arms wrap around his middle and checks him to the ground. The dust clears with Taeyong above him, flickers of blue in brown eyes pinning him down.

“I’m _not_ scared.”

“I never said-”

“Do not loop me in with the others. I’m doing this because I want to, and I never go back on my word.”

With that, Taeyong crushes his lips roughly against Jaehyun to shut him up. The belt and pants come off after (quick learning, Jaehyun notes) before getting plundered by the sensations- tangible and intangible. It’s not the same as the first time, where Taeyong was hesitant about physical contact. Nor was it like the second time, where Jaehyun led Taeyong with slow dominance. Taeyong kisses like he means it, like he knows there might not be a next time...

“Is this okay?”

Breathlessly, Jaehyun nods.

Taeyong places a palm on Jaehyun’s chest, just above his heart. “This?”

“Yes.”

Taeyong returns his attention to Jaehyun’s lips, who grows lax with each lick and nip. It feels good to be kissing Taeyong (he tries not to think about how the bond has affected the way he feels). Taeyong is genuine and responsive, pouring his emotions out without filter or hesitation. Jaehyun notes the frustration, camaraderie, curiosity, and want-

_I’m doing this because I want to, and I never go back on my word._

Want.

For the first time, Jaehyun feels wanted.

A low growl is heard, and Jaehyun slowly registers that it’s coming from himself. When Taeyong presses more insistently against him, the line of muscles burn a hot trail along his body like memory and he bites back a moan. Unthinkingly, he reaches to cup Taeyong’s ass, kneading the taut smooth muscles in his rough hands and feeling the moan Taeyong lets out from the soft rumbling of his chest.

Taeyong pants against his collarbone, goosebumps bloom on his skin.

“There,” his breath wavers, “there’s no clean way to do this.”

Jaehyun blinks, then frowns in contemplation. “...well.”

Taeyong pulls back to his haunches. “...have you done this before?”

“Exhibitionism is not as rare as you think.” Taeyong gawks at Jaehyun’s hazy smile. “Plus, you’re the one who wanted this.”

“Me?! I just thought!-”

The words are lost in Taeyong’s throat as Jaehyun gently rolls him onto his back. Jaehyun slowly lowers, eyes half-lidded and staring deeply into Taeyong’s dark brown eyes. “Mm?”

“...nothing.”

“Right,” Jaehyun smirks, “I have an idea.”

He starts a trail of soft kisses and nips from the crown of Taeyong’s head to the apple of his cheek, bright red and charming. Then he trails across to kiss Taeyong’s nose, then lower to his lips.

Taeyong arches into his hovering body like a moth to flame. Hands reach up around Jaehyun’s shoulders, tugging him down, but Jaehyun has other plans. After a few more minutes of lazy, intense making out, he breaks apart and goes lower, to where his hand is, just above Taeyong’s heart.

“This good?”

Taeyong nods hazily, dragging an arm across his face to hide his eyes. Jaehyun pays it no mind, moving lower still. He licks thick stripes down Taeyong’s body, tasting every inch of skin that occupied his mind since the bath in the cabin, refreshed every morning when Taeyong took his damn sweet time pulling on his clothes…

Then he reaches Taeyong’s lower abdomen, and grins into the train of baby fuzz leading to Taeyong’s hard erection that is pressing into his boxers. There is a small wet spot at the tip. Jaehyun licks his lips.

“Do us a favour and try not to get too loud.”

He pulls Taeyong close by his hips, and without another word, takes Taeyong into his mouth.

Taeyong hisses, eyes squeezing shut as he arches into the hot wetness. A hand runs through Jaehyun’s thick locks before taking a tight grip. Jaehyun knows to be careful, but he doesn’t like to be told. So he flattens his tongue below Taeyong’s hardness and swirls once, twice, under the head. His hands tighten their grip around Taeyong’s hip, just shy of bruising. The added pressure increases the humming lust in their bond.

“...hnn fuck-nh! Fuck you.”

Jaehyun takes his time working back down on the dick that fills his mouth before pulling off with a soft pop. “Maybe later,” is all he says before he sinks in again.

Jaehyun sets a slow tempo, bobbing his head up and down and ignoring the tugs of Taeyong’s hand nudging him to go faster. A burning pleasure builds within his core, but he’s gone too far to care.

A strangled moan comes from Taeyong’s parted lips, and his hips jerks upwards into Jaehyun’s skillful mouth. He breathes heavily, and the muscles in his stomach ripple with effort from keeping his voice down. Gradually the sensations of Jaehyun’s mouth and tongue becomes more intense, until each flick across the slit causes Taeyong to pulse and throb even more.

Jaehyun shuffles their position so Taeyong’s legs are hooked over his shoulders and he is bent double at the waist.

“Relax, princess. You’re straining so hard it hurts to watch.” Jaehyun’s voice is huskier and with a rasp, it makes Taeyong hide his face again and his toes curl.

“Then stop watching and keep going, plebeian.”

Nip. “That wasn’t very nice.”

A rising sound between a growl and a groan emits from Taeyong’s throat. He tries to sit up again, but Jaehyun’s tongue does something so delicious it sends jolts of pleasure to his core and lower abdomen. His stomach clenches in strain for completion.

“I’m close,” he whispers.

Jaehyun doesn’t pull off, continuing his brutish pace. He bobs his head up and down, up and down as he feels tendrils of gold and electric blue singe from his core to the tips of his toes.

_You wanted this._

Taeyong’s fists in his hair pull hard. “Jae did you hear? I said I was close!”

But Jaehyun ignores him, swirling his tongue around the tip before flattening all the way down to the base of Taeyong’s hardness, sheathing completely.

_You wanted me._

Taeyong whines something unholy, peeling his arms back and Jaehyun almost stills. With dishevelled hair, glassy brown eyes and a deep flush across his body, Taeyong is the perfect visual of a wet dream come to life. But it’s much more than that. It’s Taeyong’s big heart, his rapid-fire wit, his smiles and snarls and sarcasm. His entirety.

Jaehyun takes Taeyong all the way, feels the muscles tighten to snapping. Taeyong grows thicker in spasm, before shooting out a long rope of cum. With each twitch and release more thick white liquid fills Jaehyun's mouth. He swallows fast, feeling a wordless contentment buzzing under his skin. Taeyong curls up, legs and body shaking as he comes undone.

No sound uttered. Only stuttering breaths fill the silence between them as Taeyong comes down from the high.

Jaehyun blinks back visions of gold, blue and white tendrils. His heartbeat a calming storm in his ears. He slowly releases the breath he held and pulls away.

Taeyong’s legs slowly, gently rest on the ground as Jaehyun moves up, pressing butterfly kisses on the skin of the beauty that unravelled before his eyes. Taeyong whines softly.

“J-jae, you.”

 _You wanted me._   
_So I’ll let you have me._

Jaehyun kisses the centre of Taeyong’s back as he massages and works his way lower. Soon he runs his mouth and tongue on the lower back dimples, kissing each dip of muscles gently.

“Please. Let me."

Taeyong feels his body turn and lift slightly, then Jaehyun cages over him like a warm blanket. Jaehyun nuzzles into the soft skin of Taeyong’s nape, soft but insistent, placing a kiss there. Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“How?”

“Like this.”

Jaehyun pulls Taeyong’s legs together before squeezing his erection snugly between. Taeyong wiggles his hips in protest, but realizes this… this is it. They can’t go further than this.

This, as in the slick of Jaehyun’s erection. The sticky saliva sliding down the insides of Taeyong’s shaky legs from Jaehyun’s earlier ministrations. Their mingled breaths. The slippery but slow, measured thrusts that incrementally heightens Jaehyun’s pleasure. The little sounds that escape Taeyong’s pink lips when he finally feels what Jaehyun has felt through their bond. The hot coil of their cores that thrum in white, brighter than ever. The heat of Jaehyun’s mouth on Taeyong’s shoulder, kissing the spot just above the inked dragon’s head.

“Only this.”

Only this… but there is so much to this.

Taeyong thrusts back, shallow but timed to Jaehyun’s movements; his thighs tighten their grip around Jaehyun’s erection. Jaehyun hisses and pants, bracing himself around Taeyong and letting out a low groan.

Chest to back, mouth to ear, hip to hip they pressed, and Jaehyun begins to feel hot and dizzy with overpowering lust.

“Close,” he whispers in warming.

Taeyong makes a breathy sound from his throat. “Mmh. Come for me.”

It’s all Jaehyun can stand before he bites back a choked moan, feeling as though all of the nerve endings burn with some unexplainable feeling. He dirties the ground with strong, overdue spurts. It lasts impressively long. Taeyong also whines empathetically, feeling the rush of release through their bond like a tightly wound string. He blindly reaches back, running fingers through Jaehyun's hair, keeping him close. Their visions flash gold and electric blue before turning to white, then finally, darkness settles as they roll off the soiled ground, catching their breaths.

Minutes later, maybe longer, Jaehyun comes to, feeling Taeyong’s forehead pressed against his, soft breaths fanning across his face, eyes searching. Jaehyun’s pacing heart slows as he stares back.

Fear and dread creeps into Jaehyun’s thoughts, and he quickly reaches within to feel his core and the bond. Suddenly, something inside bursts with gold, blinding him. He blinks and blinks, gasping and focusing and searching before-

It’s there. The string is still there. The bond. Their cores. It hasn’t disappeared like it would, if they’d completed the bond.

A muted relief fizzles through Jaehyun’s body.

Followed by a deep sense of sadness but-

No. This is for the better.

“Let’s go in ten minutes.”

Taeyong looks over tiredly, opening one eye to level Jaehyun with a _look_. “Like, another round?”

“Like Pai,” Jaehyun bites back a smile, feeling lighter than he’s felt in… forever, “idiot.”

Taeyong snorts. “Talk about mixed signals.”

Jaehyun ignores him, mentally recalling the map he’d memorized, the safehouse where No will be and-

And this, this too will be over soon.

“I could make that five.”

“I’d like to see you move in five.”

“You weren’t that good.”

“Oh yeah? Could’ve fooled me. I felt _everything_ through our b-”

Jaehyun then proves that yes, he can definitely move and yes, he can definitely kiss, especially to stop the ramblings of a pretty policeman.

•••

They’re back on the road before the ten minutes are up. Jaehyun leads the way, ignoring Taeyong’s unsolicited suggestions. Taeyong probably has a better sense of direction, he would’ve failed SAS if he couldn’t keep track of his bearings and navigation. But these neck of woods look familiar to Jaehyun. He’s trained here for a year after all. Some places take a longer time to industrialize than others, and it works to his advantage.

Pai is within a day’s walk away, and he needs to meet No at the safe house first before making contact with his old instructors. Not that he needs back up, but it wouldn’t hurt in case he runs into more ruffians while on his search. He sighs, pulling the scarf tighter around the bottom of his face and quickening his steps.

Taeyong hasn’t stopped staring at him since their… since _that_ , but Jaehyun’s far too distracted by his thoughts to address the elephant in the room. Jungle. To be honest, he’s not sure if he wants to. Talking with Taeyong is prone to lead to… distractions. Distractions that neither of them can afford. Or should contemplate.

“Hey…”

“...hm?”

"We don't need..."

"What?"

"I mean. I just.” Taeyong looks to be struggling for words. Finally, he says: “Nevermind.”

Jaehyun purses his lips, trudging forward.

They pass by more farmland, golden temples, thick forests and narrow streams. Then Jaehyun turns to a winding path up a hilly area, Taeyong close behind. With each step pulls a stronger memory from his brain. The path eventually opens to a plateau, with small clay buildings in a haphazard cluster. There are a few people milling about, one of them staring directly at Jaehyun.

“We’re here.”


	17. 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hope you're doing okay. If you're joining protests, stay safe. If you're supporting through other means, wonderful. For those unaware, it would mean a lot if you could [learn more about it here](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co). Let's support and raise each other and, above all, be kind.
> 
> On a lesser note: thank you for following this story until now; I hope each update brightens your day just a little. Those who leave comments and kudos: thank you, thank you, thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts on the story. You definitely brighten my day.
> 
> Now onto the feature presentation.

Jaehyun contemplates contacting Jun about the situation. No is waiting for him at the safehouse, he should be notified about the delay lest he goes on a search and recovery frenzy. But when Jaehyun meets eyes with his instructor, Phuong, his thoughts come to a halt. She wears a pixie cut that sits atop a wrinkled, hardened, angular face, a tall nose, thin lips, and sharp eyebrows. Her dark eyes that gleam with power and confidence narrow into slits, like trying to glare him into spontaneous combustion. Her exposed arms are filled in, muscular. Jaehyun remembers being pulled into a chokehold more than once in those arms and almost grins in nostalgia of simpler times. Before the drugs and arms trade. When he only had himself and fighting.

He takes a step, and then another.

She also approaches them, shortening the distance. Then she aims a side kick, full force, at his head. He immediately takes a step back, avoiding the expected blow that would’ve knocked his teeth out. She squares up, gaze hardening, and throws a series of punches and kicks in a flurry of motions that Jaehyun just barely avoids. She hasn’t lost her touch one bit. He gets hit a few times on his arms, legs and once to the side of his ribs, but blocks as best as he can.

When Phuong takes a short break to survey the damages, he promptly moves back, raising his arms in surrender.

“I’m not here to fight,” he says in English.

“I am not interested in anything you have to say,” she replies in English. Her voice is low and lethal, just as he remembers. “Leave.”

“I need help.”

“You won’t find help here. Leave before I kill you.”

A muscle in Jaehyun's jaw tightens. “I wouldn’t be here if I had a choice. Listen-"

" _You_ listen." Phuong takes a step forward, eyes blazing. "You don't get to tarnish the name, mind and body we’ve given you only to slink back when you need help. You've lost your chance the moment you decided on the wrong path. You will _not_ find help here. Leave."

Jaehyun growls, clenching his hands to fists. He holds his right arm out, like presenting evidence. "We are bonded. We need to break it."

Phuong's expression tightens. "Leave.”

“Phuong!”  
“Jae-”

Jaehyun’s motions still with Taeyong’s grip around his arm. Taeyong wears an expression between apprehension and fear, his eyebrows locked into a worried frown. Right. He’s never met Phuong before, doesn’t know what he’s getting into. Jaehyun grits his teeth, then turns to Phuong.

“I know I have no right to show my face around here, but I have nowhere else to go. I need your help. Please.”

Phuong stares dispassionately at Jaehyun before her gaze slides onto Taeyong. “Bonded, you say?”

Taeyong visibly gulps. He smiles with a wince and scratches the back of his head sheepishly. In his best British English, he says, “Shittiest luck, am I right?”

A pause.

Her tight face breaks into a rough, impish grin. “I like you.”

“Um,” stammers Taeyong.

“Phuong,” interrupts Jaehyun, a strange feeling in his chest.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Wha-?!” Taeyong blanches. “Wait why-”

“You too, Tiger.”

Jaehyun surveys Phuong’s unchanged expression and sees a flash of mirth move across her eyes. He sighs, looking over to meet Taeyong’s perplexed expression. “Just do it.”

“Eh??”

Jaehyun takes off his shirt in a fluid motion to reveal a toned body littered with bruises. The ones Phuong inflicted are new and red. A flash of understanding passes Taeyong’s face, and he gingerly takes off his black t-shirt too. On Taeyong’s torso are identical bruises, though the new ones from Phuong look a lot lighter than Jaehyun’s angry red. In fact, it looks like he’s taken less damage from Phuong. But Jaehyun is quickly distracted with the flat stomach and trail of wispy hair leading into Taeyong's pants where hours ago they-

“Yeah you definitely have the shittiest luck being bonded to this stick in the mud," says Phuong, grin wide and knowing when she catches Jaehyun staring.

Jaehyun frowns. "Hey, I'm plenty fun."

"You zeroed in on training for a whole year while people threw themselves at your feet. The only fun you have is when you were competing-"

"That's enough," interrupts Jaehyun, crossing his arms defensively. "This is the proof you need. I need to speak to the doyen."

"I never agreed to help."

Twin looks gawk openly at Phuong, whose grin all but twists into a sadistic smirk.

"You bitch," Jaehyun squawks.

Phuong bears her teeth in a threatening way. "Don’t think I won’t snap your neck, impudent student."

"Fuck this. I don't need your help. Yong, let's go." Jaehyun pulls Taeyong along, unaware of his slip of tongue, but Taeyong blushes bright red.

Jaehyun tugs them away from the small huts and back into the forest. He briefly glances back to catch Phuong’s grin like she knows something. Then, a young woman with long black hair tied loosely at the neck, strong posture, and a curious look in her eyes joins Phuong. They exchange a few words quietly without taking their eyes off of him and Taeyong. After a moment, the young woman leaves for the small settlement, and Phuong continues to stare at them with suspicion in her eyes.

Taeyong frowns. "Are you sure she’s here?"

According to Jun she was, but Jaehyun has no way of knowing unless he ransacks the settlement. He shakes his head, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "There should be no reason for the doyen to leave the tribe. She is the matriarch's sister, well respected and vital. Jun said she was here and would stay here for a while. He has no reason to lie. They’re playing with me.”

“Whatever the case, it doesn’t seem like they want to help you." Taeyong’s eyebrows furrow. "This was not what I expected."

"They wouldn't be helping me," Jaehyun starts, but the next words die in his throat. _They'd be helping you_.

Taeyong seems to read his mood, because he doesn’t push the subject after that. He probably thinks Jaehyun would go on a killing rampage if they didn’t break the bond asap. Jaehyun grits his teeth at the thought, and looks away as an uncomfortable feeling lodges itself into his chest.

_This is stupid. This is all so. Goddamn. Stupid._

"Um. The woman we just met, Phuong, was she the one who trained you?"

Jaehyun nods stiffly. "She and Mir. They were two of the best fighters in all of Thailand."

"Completely bonded, you said."

"That's right."

An unreadable expression dawns on Taeyong's face. Jaehyun feels hesitation and apprehension humming through the bond. He doesn’t know what to do with the information, so he does what he’s always done, and takes a step back to reassess. “I need to make a call,” he decides.

Taeyong opens his mouth, then closes it. He nods and, without waiting for Jaehyun to respond, walks away, eyes disappointed and lips pulled into a tight line.

Jaehyun decides he hates that look.

He knows it's unfair to Taeyong who was forcefully dragged into this journey without consent. Now that the only reason they've traversed across three countries is barred from access, it feels like everything they've done meant nothing. Worst of all, Jaehyun feels like he's let Taeyong down, like he's broken a promise. He's never broken a promise before, let alone one of this magnitude.

“I need-”

“Code or no dice.”

Jaehyun exhales, then counts to ten.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is-”

“Alright I’m fucking with you. Where the hell are you? No is getting antsy.”

“I’m here.”

“‘Here’ tells me nothing.”

“I didn’t think I’d get here before Pai.”

There is a long pause. Jaehyun can imagine the gears swiftly turning in Jun’s head. “Right.”

“They’re alluding to her not being here, but I don't believe it. Help isn't coming easy, but I should've expected it. I have no way to contact No, so do that for me. Tell him to stop pacing and stay low."

"What about you? What will you do?"

Jaehyun almost chews on his lip, a habit he kicked after realizing how vulnerable it makes him look. He tightens his hold around the phone instead. "I need a day to sort this out. I'll rendezvous with No by tomorrow latest."

"I can, um, try to send him to you."

"He has zero sense of direction. Sending him would be… unwise. Have him stay put. I'll keep you posted. As for the flights…"

"Two tickets to Seoul with a transfer at Chiang Mai. Ready when you are."

"Good. I’ll be in contact."

"Okay. Boss?"

“Hm?”

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

Jaehyun cuts the connection. Taeyong. Taeyong will need to know where they’re going...

...but where the hell is he?

He takes a perimeter around, but Taeyong is nowhere to be found. It’s not like there are many places to hide. They’re in a jungle near a settlement and... Jaehyun’s eyes widen. He runs back where he came. If Taeyong went to talk to Phuong… if she raises a hand on him, it could all be over.

Phuong wouldn’t kill without reason, but she’s protective of her people and wary of outsiders. Taeyong is, for all the wrong reasons, related to Jaehyun, and Jaehyun knows his name is not welcome in these parts.

He darts from hut to hut, looking for the pretty policeman. A strange panic grips him, one he didn't think he was capable of feeling. If he loses Taeyong… if.

Not this one.

Not this one either.

Not this.

Fuck. _Fuck._

He turns a corner and pauses-

“I’m not- this isn’t for him. This is for _us_.”

“You’re a piss poor liar. Even I can see that you two are closer than what you want me to believe. You’re fooling no one.”

A frustrated exhale. “With all due respect, it’s _not_ what you see. You don’t even know me. How can you know what I want?”

“You’re right. I don’t know you. So tell me, why should I help you?”

Rustling. “That wasn’t my idea. J- I mean, Seu kidnapped me and forced me on this journey with him.”

“You can just escape, you know.”

“The bond prevents us from being apart.” A sigh. “Shouldn’t you know this? Seu said you and your partner completed your bond.”

“Initially, yes. But your bond grew stronger and lengthened over time. Case in point, you’re here, and Seu’s nowhere to be seen. My wife and I can be on opposite sides of the world too.”

Taeyong makes a face, like he doesn’t agree with the comparison. “Regardless, escaping is out of the question if we’re still connected by the bond. It’s the reason why we’re here. We need to break it.”

Phuong tsks in a way like a mother would to a child. “Breaking the bond requires you to erase the connection you’ve built. You have to reach within you, around your core, and remove every tendril of his existence. Unravel them, so you can be free. He will have to do the same. Did you know that?”

Taeyong pauses. “I… didn’t. No. But that doesn’t matter. Whatever it takes, we’ll do it.”

An expression of mild annoyance dons Phuong’s face. “Don’t underestimate the strength of your bond. It’s not easy, as with most important things in a relationship. Also,” Taeyong opens his mouth to apologize, or protest, but Phuong pushes on, “you don’t seem convinced that none of it would matter once you break the bond. I can see the hesitation in your body language. You’re just repeating words.”

Taeyong makes a sound of outrage. “Hesitation! Maybe you need to check your eyesight. I didn’t walk across three countries on a whim. I need this bond broken so I can get back to my life!”

“...are you and Seu going to separate?”

“Of course!”

“Is he not going to kill you?”

Taeyong frowns. “He said he wouldn’t, and I trust that he’ll keep his word.”

“Really. How do you feel about him?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you were kidnapped and brought here. Seu probably took the long route as precaution, so you must’ve spent a fair bit of time together. In fact,” a pause, “it’s just been the two of you. Am I wrong?”

“...no. You’re right.”

“So, what do you think about him?”

“He’s. Look, I’m not here to share my thoughts on Seu. All I’m here for is to break the bond, which he and I have already agreed on. I don’t understand why anything else matters.”

A scoff. “All you’re doing is reacting to how you’re feeling. Do you even know why you want to break your bond?”

“Fine,” sits Taeyong’s voice, affronted and frustrated. “We can start with the obvious one. I’m a policeman. He’s a criminal. Our moral compasses are already in conflict, let alone the lifestyles we lead. There’s no overlap between us.”

“None of those things are permanent or mutually exclusive. In fact, criminals define law and order, and vice versa.” A smirk. “So let me ask you again: why do you want to break your bond?”

Taeyong is gobsmacked, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. His glare turns heated and he throws his arms in the air. “Because. Because we have lives built independently of each other! I have a job, friends, family that I have to return to. I can’t go back without breaking this bond. I can’t go back when I’m _bonded to a criminal!_ I’m not a criminal, I don’t condone his actions. I’m not a faction leader’s shadow, an afterthought tied to his wrist! I have a life to live, and I intend to live it the way I want!”

Jaehyun presses himself to the side of the hut, as though the force of Taeyong’s words pushed him back. His heart feels strangely heavy in his chest, pounding sluggishly like he’s poisoned. He knows Taeyong felt that way all this time. They’re from different walks of life with hardly any overlap to compromise. They’d even said it a hundred times: ‘when the bond breaks’, ‘when we’re separated’, ‘we can go back to our own lives’. It’s inevitable.

Even if they didn’t break the bond, Taeyong wouldn’t be his shadow and couldn't possibly join him in his criminal ways. And he, well, he has more on the line. People’s livelihoods depended on him, the faction figurehead. To walk away from his family, his empire for a policeman is unfathomable.

But hearing Taeyong’s admission out loud hits him where it… hurts. His hands unconsciously ball into fists.

Phuong regards Taeyong for a long, contemplative moment.

“You said you trust him.”

Taeyong frowns at the question in Phuong’s statement. “...I do.”

“Do you like him?”

“W-what does that have anything to do with anything?”

“This,” a press of skin on skin, “is not a very discreet place for a hickey.” Taeyong covers it with his hand quickly, blushing bright red. “I don’t need to hear your reasoning, but if you want to break this bond, you’ll have to erase everything you have with Seu. He will also do the same. Are you okay with that?”

“...”

A sigh, then some shuffling. “I thought so.”

“Fine. I don’t know what it takes to convince you, but he and I were just fooling around. There is no ‘us’. Once the bond is broken, he will leave and I will find my way back to Hong Kong, hoping our paths never cross again.”

A cradle of hand cupping face. A brush of thumb on cheek. “Your heartbeat, your eyes. You don’t even realize you’re lying to yourself.”

Another shuddering exhale, tired, defeated. “I just want to go back home.”

Jaehyun’s had enough. He rips away from the side of the hut and retreats back to the recesses of the jungle, mind blank, heart heavy and beating fast. It’s too much to process. Shallow breaths meld with the cacophony of insect sounds, rustling trees, his heartbeat wreaking havoc in his ears. 

Home. It’s all Taeyong ever wanted.

Not here in the thick jungles with him, looking for a person to break them apart.

Something slowly cements in Jaehyun’s body as his mind runs a mile a minute. He’ll do that. He’ll do that for Taeyong. No more tight-lipped muted frustration. No more look of disappointment. All he needs is to find a doyen. Any doyen. Hell, he’ll learn it himself, guide Taeyong to do the same and break the bond. Taeyong will go back home, and he will go back to his life. Then…

That’s it.

He’ll reconvene with Jun, tell him to let No know they’ll be arriving earlier than expected. If they hitch a ride, or jog consistent speed, they should get there in less than a day. He dials the number.

“Jun-”

Jaehyun flips away just in time to avoid the kick flying in from behind. But his phone eats the impact, cracked and splintered, and flies into the shrubbery behind him. Jaehyun has a split second to assess the situation before another punch comes in. He blocks it with effort, grunting. Another punch lands under his ribs. Fuck, that _hurt_. He throws a few punches and side jabs, but the man shakes him off and puts a few meters between them.

A swirl of black and silver stands before him. Ash silver hair, jet black eyes, more piercings than Jaehyun cares to count, the man is the very definition of visual kei. Jaehyun almost raises an eyebrow, but he knows not to judge a book by its cover. He doesn’t remember leaving teeth marks with the Japanese, so who does this asshole represent? He doesn’t seem like one of Phuong’s students, not with the way he dresses.

Whatever the case, where he punched hurt like a motherfucker. This asshole is going to pay.

Jaehyun attacks first, throwing a set of punches, jabs, and kicks in clean, quick successions. The man moves without hesitation, avoiding or blocking his attacks with the fluidity of a contemporary dancer. It’s the strangest combination Jaehyun’s ever seen. In fact, the man is skilled and confident, like he's fought his entire life, and that tells Jaehyun more than he wants to know. Guilt and dread pool at his stomach. He briefly considered a meeting, but didn’t expect it to actually happen.

He readies himself as the man charges over.

For minutes he is on defense as the man lands blow after blow, trying to bid for a moment of fatigue or hesitation, but there isn't one. His arms are starting to turn red from the beating.

This can't go on.

Jaehyun pivots his left foot, snapping his right into the man's thigh and watches his balance get thrown off, falling. But the man climbs to his feet quickly, falling into the same position Taeyong fell into when they'd first met at the restaurant in Hong Kong.

Jaehyun sighs in frustration.

"I,” _don’t want to fight_ , he wants to say. But he realizes how grotesquely out of character that would be. He is Seu. He’s fought his entire life. Fighting is like breathing to him. To not want to fight is… unthinkable.

He hears another attacker coming from behind and his body reacts before he thinks, pulling the warm dagger from under his shirt and blocking the attack with his other hand. He places the dagger behind his open hand, watching the silver-haired man spare a glance at this new attacker.

The new attacker, taller and more muscular, leaps into his blind spot and charges at him again. Jaehyun inhales deeply.

He blocks the first punch aimed at his face, but takes the second punch to his face. He dodges it, but even the graze of a knuckle hurts like hell. He grits his teeth hard until his gums hurt. The urge to throw the dagger is strong, but he holds back.

“Stop,” he starts, raising a hand.

There’s a rustle behind him. His eyes widen.

_Fuck-_

Before he knows it, he falls to the ground, knocked into darkness.


	18. 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it through 17 chapters wondering where the angst is, look no further. This chapter is just angst. All angst. And maybe a little reminiscing because everyone has a past. Happy reading (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。

²⁰⁰⁰  
“C’mon Seu, you’ve never shied away from a little conflict.”

“Little? The place is infested with police after your trade got busted.”

“Bah, that was nothing!” gloats the disembodied voice. Jaehyun almost snarls. “Forget about the police. Just think of it as an opportunity to spread your business. There must be a price we can agree on.”

“There isn’t."

"But-"

Jaehyun throws his telephone down into the receiver angrily, then sweeps the black plastic box into the wall, leaving a dent. Jun watches quietly, mildly amused. When they meet eyes, Jaehyun looks away, ducking his head to deal with the paperwork of crime- _someone_ has to keep track of shipments and balance the books.

“That’s not like you."

"My men aren't dispensable."

“That’s not what I meant." A pause, then, “You’ve gotten less confrontational.”

“There’s better money elsewhere.”

“Only after hours of negotiation. You’ve never wasted time like this.” A corner of Jun’s mouth quirks up. "Don't think I haven't noticed. You’re avoiding Hong Kong."

Jaehyun hears the implication and sighs, putting down his pen. “I wasn't aware this office became your psychoanalytic playground, Jun.”

“You were gone for three weeks and gave zero explanation when you came back. Anyone would wonder.”

“...”

”All the while Ji, No, Min and I kept your operation above water.” Jun crosses his arms, pinning Jaehyun with a knowing look. It makes him seem older. Jaehyun sniffs, crossing his arms and looking away. “So no, we don’t need to talk about your personal life. But not providing an explanation for what happened gives me very, very little incentive to continue this arrangement."

Jaehyun knows this, obviously.

Jun, No, Min and Ji prove their worth in gold. Jaehyun sees their potential to start their own faction. No and Ji are formidable fighters, No even has a knack for teaching. Min works well with Jun for any and all psychology warfare, which is especially precarious when it comes to the world of crime. Not to mention Min has friends in unexpected places, which comes in handy when they need a policeman to look the other way, members of other factions to leak important information for a cut of the business. With this unique team, and perhaps a few more trusted sources in different countries, they can succeed Jaehyun in taking over.

He wonders if the world of crime is their be all, end all.

He wonders if there’s another way.

"Five percent of quarterly sales."

"Ten."

"Rob a fucking bank."

"I will after this. Ten or find yourself a new pointman."

Jaehyun narrows his eyes, seeing where this is going. "Ji, No and Min are going to ask for the same, aren't they?"

Jun smirks, looking at his nails. "I would've asked for a higher number."

Jaehyun sighs, rifles through his drawer and pulls out a cheque book. He tears out four, scribbles numbers and a signature, and throws them at Jun's shit-eating grin. "Get the fuck out of my office."

Jun sweeps them out of the air with glee. He spares Jaehyun a wide grin of gratitude before skipping out of the office. "You assholes better buy me a house each!"

"No one will buy you shit!" Comes an indignant shout. Then, a gasp. "What!" Then a heavy set of footsteps, and Ji bursts into the office, waving a narrow slip of paper around. "What the fuck is this!?"

A second and third pair of footsteps, a mix of light and heavy, echo through the hall and No and Min burst into the office with equal disbelief on their faces. Is that a soft glisten in the corners of No's eyes?

“Boss, what does this mean?” demands Min, waving the cheque in his hand.

"I don't. I didn't work for this. I swore to follow you to kingdom come but in the three weeks you were gone I. I-"

Jaehyun clears his throat, shrugging awkwardly. "It's what you deserved for covering my disappearance. Go shopping, buy a house, or whatever it is you kids do with money. Oh my god No, are you really crying?"

Min throws his long arms around Jaehyun without hesitation. No and Ji follow suit. Jun watches from the doorframe, smirking, until Min breaks from the dogpile with his enormous strength and drags the shorter man in. Jun complains about proximity and professionalism. Ji whines about body heat and No's snot and tears. Jaehyun grumbles he can feel his ribs moments from cracking. They go largely ignored.

"I see, signing your pay cheques is all I'm good for."

"Stop ruining a sentimental moment and deal with your role as our adoptive father, you old fart."

Jaehyun makes an affronted sound. He's not sure who said this, but the grips around his body tighten, like they thought he was going to escape. He has nowhere to escape to, and wouldn’t want to escape anyway. He’s never felt more… needed. Like he mattered. So, for a brief moment, he leans into this security net and exhales. Then breathes.

For the first time, he wonders what else he can do for these young men.

¹⁹⁹⁷  
When Jaehyun woke up, he was faced with the tall, mangled trees of the jungle and a vast, dark sky in the backdrop. Cloudy, not a star in sight. His body instinctively tensed, braced for pain as he slowly came to, but there was none. He didn’t know how long he was out for. His throat was dry, his mind disorganized, and his heart pumping adrenaline through his body.

He was knocked out. That much he was certain.

_Slick._

He jumped. Threw as something slimy and cold, inching across his forehead. His movements jostled the mollusk, dislodging it from his face and falling to his lap. A snail. A snail the size of his fucking palm was slithering across his face. He clambered to his feet, wiping the residual slime off with the back of his hand.

He was no longer in the settlement, fighting who he suspected were Taeyong’s nine dragons. He had no idea where he was. He had nothing on him. All he knew was he needed to get to No.

He stumbled, caught himself, and set a steady pace in a direction. He took thousands upon thousands of steps, unfamiliar twists and turns, and finally arrived at the safehouse in Pai, where No was waiting with a pale, worried face. He was three days late. They left for Chiang Mai immediately after, driving to the city to avoid being seen, then took the earliest flight to Incheon.

No never asked him what happened. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve said either.

But the moment before they boarded the plane, he took No’s strong arm in his hand, stopping him in his tracks. No looked back curiously, but Jaehyun could see a heavy concern casting a shadow in his eyes. He said, “It’s over. I’m here. We’re going home.”

No nodded.

With that, Jaehyun eased back into the life of crime.

It would be a lie if Jaehyun said he didn't try tapping into the bond once he woke up from the rather nasty nerve pinch.

(Whoever the fuck did that had fingers of diamond. The bruise it left took a long ass time to heal. Ji, after teasing him the first time he caught sight of it, stared unabashed when the red bled to purple, then blue, then yellow over the course of weeks.

Jaehyun called him out on it, to which he responded shyly but simply, "You've never gotten a bruise in the years that I've known you." To which Jaehyun gloats a little, until the tweak of bruised muscles has him huffing and puffing, a sore reminder of what happened.)

But what he finds is… nothing.

He lets the idea settle.

On the one hand, it’s what he expects. Though he was neither conscious nor aware, Taeyong must’ve convinced Phuong to get the doyen to break their bond. He’s not sure of the specifics, but he wouldn’t put it past some kind of witchcraft magickery to go down. Whatever the method, the bond must’ve been severed when he was knocked out.

But there isn’t an emptiness he expects to feel. Not emptiness, nor a feeling of incompletion.

There is simply nothing.

(Jaehyun swallows the lump in his throat.)

He doesn’t know what to feel. Because nothing is there.

It’s not the emptiness he saw in the eyes of the fourteen year old boy betrayed by his own faction staring back from the mirror. It’s not the indifference when he watched men from opposing factions lose consciousness, then their lives, from the creative murderous methods his arms came up with. It’s not the emotional vacance he experiences when life gets too hard but he’s still expected to deliver 100%, when every cell in his body screams to stop. Just stop. No more, please.

But he didn’t. He knew he had to keep going, or he'd fall deeper.

(And if he ever thought that emotions, deeper emotions, were lost in the severing of the bond, he lets it go. There’s no point crying over spilt milk. What’s done can’t be undone. All he can do is move on.)

With this new strange, unsettled feeling in his core, Jaehyun’s not sure of his strength anymore. He considers asking No or Min for a friendly sparring session, but his throat closes. What if he lost his strength? What if word leaked that he lost his strength? The mere thought of it worries him.

He knows the faction leads to uncertainties, especially those that put the lives around him in danger. And he might not have the power to protect them as he once did.

He feels an inexplicable urge to take a firm step into a different direction.

Instead of dwelling, he zeroes in on making money. He knows his integrity is being tested, so he takes careful, calculated risks. He doesn't need more eyes staring hungrily at his throne; ones that have become emboldened after his three week hiatus.

They’re waiting for him to make one mistake, then take him down.

In the end, it was never a question of “if”, but “when”.

So he hatches a plan.

For the next year, he secretly develops a new brand, his eyes set on the North American market. He takes frequent trips to Manhattan and Los Angeles where he spends most of his waking hours building a trustworthy team to dissect market research, and write proposals and performance reports. At the end, he signs papers under his real, unused name: Jeong Jaehyun.

His focus? Korean skincare and beauty products.

His brand? _Seasons._

No, Min, Jun and Ji are the first to find out. No loves the idea. Min makes a face, commenting that it’s kind of lame. Jun clickety-clacks on his keyboard. Jaehyun knows he has their full support even without the exchange of words. Ji has one year left to kick ass in the Korean military, but he’s already made Jaehyun promise him the permanent position: whatever he wants.

Min and No are acquiesced as Jaehyun’s right hand men, his representatives. No certainly has the looks, and Min the charm to maneuver through the stickiest social situations. Most importantly, they are much less recognizable than Jaehyun’s, um, wanted-poster poster-boy face.

Jun shows up from time to time to provide business guidance, forge documents, and spin in Jaehyun’s swivel chair for shits and giggles. When that’s all said and done, he makes a teasing comment about the dark circles that get increasingly darker with time, and the deep wrinkles that form around Jaehyun’s eyes and mouth. (He stops at Jaehyun’s white hairs, because he knows better than asking for death.) Jaehyun endures it mostly because Jun looks after his faction when he is gone, which approximately amounts to almost five months.

Later, with Jaehyun’s order, Jun begins moving his closest arms and runs, situating them to work real jobs- R&D, packaging, manufacturing, shipping, and communications. Many of them were reluctant at first, not knowing what to make of the sudden change, but they eventually fall into place, knowing that they have Seu’s (or Jaehyun’s) support. They do their best to work two jobs, pocketing generous sums and slowly blurring the lines of legal and illegal work.

His faction is doing well for itself. Business is not as bright or robust, but the flow of income is steady and necessary. It’s a safety net, one Jaehyun intends to keep around at least until _Seasons_ breaks even. He predicts five years, give or take one year. Jun puts ₩50,000 on four. Min bets a crisp ₩100,000 on three and Ji, all the way from the North Gangwon-do military base, predicts it’ll take one year.

Two months later, the first storefront of _Seasons_ launches at the corner of the 5th and 31st street in Manhattan.

There’s a line out the door to be gifted a handful of sample skincare products, but the patrons are found starstruck, openly staring at No and Min. Not that anyone could blame them. No and Min wore pinstripe navy bespoke suits of varying shades, pressed white shirts and styled their hair to the nines. Their suits hugged them in all the right places; gifts from Jaehyun. Jaehyun watches with a tired but excited smile, wearing his poor disguise of a black snapback, black face mask, black tee and camo print pants. Jun, behind the security cameras, rolls his eyes and writes something down.

The next week, No and Min become the unofficial models of _Seasons_ . They’re interviewed, photographed, made famous for the brand and their good looks. (It’s mostly their good looks.) _Seasons_ soars in popularity, spear-heading the foreign market with the ferocity of a person facing down the sun and winning. Jun comments on it with a light chuckle: this success is a very Jaehyun thing to happen.

But, true to the workaholic and perfectionist in him, Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s doing enough to secure his business.

So for the next six months, he works tirelessly to bring more products to _Seasons_ , listening and changing the formula of the skincare and beauty products, packaging and marketing to fit the North American vibe, which is much less cutesy and eye-popping than its Korean-based equivalent.

It’s long and draining work. There are moments where Jaehyun fears _Seasons_ will lose momentum, so he has more meetings, pushes R&D for new discoveries and more cost friendly options, and continues market research. Within the next year, he has a solid collection of products for different skin types for every season. This all stops when Ji stares at his head for a very long time one day.

“It’s right there.”

“Nothing is there, Ji. Nothing.”

“But it’s white-”

“Go back to work!”

(He carefully plucks out each individual piece of white hair after that.)

In between, he flies back to Daejeon to oversee his faction, making sure that there is enough financial and emotional support for business to run smoothly. The faction’s finances have decreased in the last year, but Season’s numbers have steadily increased.

In a little over three years, he breaks even. Min takes all the pool money with a wide, triumphant grin- it’s the widest Jaehyun’s ever seen. Jaehyun returns the grin with a small smile of his own, hidden behind his glass of Dom. Celebrations are rare. Rarer, when Jaehyun takes part in them. That’s why Min instigates the first toast.

“To turning a new leaf!”

It hits Jaehyun right then, that’s exactly what he did. He raises his glass, clinking with everyone else’s. That’s something he can toast to.

Slowly, Seu’s name and face becomes no more than a grainy memory on a brittle newsprint.

²⁰⁰⁰  
Jaehyun wakes with a muffled groan to warm bed sheets. It’s raining heavily; the sound like a waterfall crushing against the window pane. It lulls him to and from consciousness like the time where he was trapped in a tent in a jungle as the sky seemingly opened up and poured torrential rain. A soft musky scent, a mix of lavender and something earthy, made all the more apparent in close proximity…

Adrenaline spikes and Jaehyun freezes, every muscle in his body tensing. He opens his eyes slowly.

No tent. No lavender. Just… just his Manhattan apartment, and the luxury he allows himself.

He doesn’t reach for the dagger tucked on the inside of his bed frame. He doesn’t even sit up. All he does is breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He tries to wipe his memory.

“Shanghai, you say.”

“The documents are in your mailbox. Be at the airport by 6 pm.”

“For?”

“A date.”

Jaehyun pauses, removing the thin manila folder from his mailbox. “You’re flying me halfway across the world, on company dollar, for a date.”

“Ji said you’ve been talking to your sweet potato latte again. It’s scaring the other customers.”

The corner of Jaehyun’s mouth twitches. Ever since _Seasons NY_ has steadily growing sales, Jaehyun opened a café a few doors down. It’s a very different route, arguably more cut throat, but he spent years missing the sweet potato latte that’s served at the Caffé Bene near his Seoul apartment, that he had to have the same in Manhattan. The café not only serves drinks and simple desserts, but also a few seasonal flavours of ice cream. Jaehyun affectionately called it “77”. No, as usual, supported it wholeheartedly while Ji found it hilarious. Min and Jun facepalmed in unison.

“Lies. He’s the only one openly staring. What is this really for?”

“Wouldn’t blame him,” Jaehyun hears the hint of a smile in Jun’s voice, then: “a date.”

“Jun, you may not have noticed, but I have work to do.”

“You’ve worked your entire life.”

Jaehyun shuffles back into his apartment before extracting the plane ticket, the correspondent’s file and two more forms paper-clipped at the back.

“That’s not a reason to stop.”

A sigh. “Work dinner. Our supplier in Shanghai needs a few contracts signed, a figurehead to speak to. I have my hands tied in Daejeon. Practice your Mandarin. Should be relatively straight forward.”

“Our supplier of...?”

“Face masks, boss. Snail slime face masks.”

Jaehyun bites back a smile from the disgust in Jun’s voice. “And all I need is to go over some contracts?”

“A friendly conversation wouldn’t hurt. You’ll have dinner at the Shangri La. You’ll also have a room to freshen up. Be nice, sign some papers, and make sure everyone’s happy.”

“How demanding,” Jaehyun smiles. “One night?”

“If you can bear being away from Manhattan for that long.”

The sarcasm isn’t unwarranted. Jaehyun’s been spending more and more time in Manhattan, trying to get his business off the ground. “The meeting will likely take no longer than a day. Book the earliest flight back for the next day.”

“Boss. Jaehyun-hyung. With all due respect, you need to unwind.”

“When I die.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

Jaehyun laughs. After hanging up, he pulls out a leather duffle bag and carefully places three neatly pressed shirts of light blue, grey pinstripe, and classic white. Then he adds a pair of thin, linen slacks and another pair of thicker classic wool, all black. Underwear, socks, a small pouch of toiletries and Finally, he adds his choice of weapons- a set of well-loved daggers, into the inner folds and zips the bag.

The flight is fifteen hours, most of which Jaehyun spends making notes on his documents and notebook, flipping through quarterly sales from 77, _Seasons_ and more subtly, his faction.

He’s been meaning to close it. Jun has given him the green light to pull the plug half a year ago. His companies, the legal ones, are doing swimmingly such that even if a financial crisis were to hit, Jaehyun has enough cash on hand to tide the company over for at least six months. He hasn’t much else to spend on anyway. But he hasn’t.

It might be the nostalgia, or what the faction represents in Jaehyun’s life, or perhaps because it is the only connection to who he was mere years ago... but Jaehyun wants to keep it just a little longer. He exhales, pulling the duffle bag a little closer to his body, and smoothly passes the customs, luggage pick up, and declaration area.

Moon, an old arm, waves at him in the arrivals hall. He’s quickly ushered into an innocuous white SUV. They catch up on Moon’s two kids and business in Seoul. It feels almost like he’s in an alternative reality where he, Moon, and everyone have normal jobs, doing normal things. The life of crime Jaehyun doesn’t think twice before throwing a small, crooked smile over his shoulder as Moon drives off after dropping him off at Shangri La.

“Call me if you need anything,” Moon calls out. Jaehyun waves him off and saunters into the lobby.

The tall, open space is grand, bright and gold. The garden sprawls from the half-circle driveway into the building, climbing walls and pillars to stop near the top. Blooming magnificently through them are camellias, great and red, pink and white. There is a sudden pang of longing, as the scent brings Jaehyun back to Jeju-do, where his cottage boasts an impressive garden of camellias in spring. The feeling lingers like the smell. Jaehyun quickly shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

He supplies the concierge with his documents, credit card, and is given a warm towel, hotel key, a polite smile and blush. Jaehyun quirks a brow, and heads to the elevators. He arrives in his room a moment later, and notes the Chinese decorative themes.

The interior doors are made of dark rosewood carved into geometric patterns and filled with eggshell toned, handmade paper. All other furniture boast a similar rosewood theme combined with various off-white to plush, deep pink of the camellia, and highlighted by flecks of yellow and gold. The complementary pen, toiletries set, and desk light. Unlike the low hum of constant hustle bustle in New York, this room is quiet. Almost eerily so.

Jaehyun shakes out of his reverie. He checks the amenities, phone line, puts down his bag and cell phone, and makes for the showers.

When he comes out, he notices a black shirt and slacks that were laid out on the bed, a slim briefcase beside them, a packet of condom and lube, and a small note above:

_Be safe._

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. He wears the clothes that were laid out, and tosses aside the condom and lube. Probably Min’s idea, executed by Jun’s connections. He checks himself in the mirror, straightens his cuffs before putting in simple, silver cufflinks.

He belatedly notices a twinge of unease in the pit of his stomach, and wonders if Jun’s note holds two meanings. He straps two daggers on his body. With everything tucked away, he checks his mirror image one last time, then fills the briefcase with his folders, pens, and heads to the dining hall.

He doesn’t place the feeling when the elevator brings him to the floor.

But within the two steps he takes, he feels it.

It’s not like the first time, where heat bursted from his core to the tips of his body, ending neatly around his wrist.

It’s not like the last time, three years ago, where his vision swam blue and gold and where everything, in retrospect, felt only right.

It’s like a breath of spring air. It’s cool, raising goosebumps, but if withstood long enough, promises warm summer winds. It lingers in his hair, below his ear where his collar doesn’t reach, between his exposed fingertips and by his heart, where it has always been.

Jaehyun stops in his steps, facing a pair of rosewood doors to his dinner date.


	19. 18

_¹⁹⁹⁷_ _  
__“I just want to go back home.”_

_“Then go.”_

_“Haven’t you been listening to me? I can’t because Seu and I are bonded-”_

_“You’re the one who has trouble listening.” Taeyong glares at the woman before him, tired of her arrogance. But Phuong glares back without falter. As he ducks his head in a short huff, she continues, “I said my wife and I can be on opposite sides of the world too. You can do the same.”_

_“You and your wife are completely bonded. Seu and I are-”_

_Phuong quirks an eyebrow. “For a policeman, you’re kind of slow. You must’ve felt the change.”_

_“I didn’t… there wasn’t…”_

_Phuong studies his face for a moment, then rolls her eyes. “If you were expecting fireworks and a team of people congratulating you for completing your bond, you’ve got another thing coming. Completing the bond was never about a snap of a moment. It’s gradual, just like any other aspect of a relationship.”_

_“I-I don’t understand. How did you know?”_

_Phuong shakes her head. “Your auras intermingled too closely to be anything else,” she says, gesturing to the air around him. “It’s in its baby stage, but I’m sure by now you can be as far from Seu as you want. Hide away and never see him again.”_

_It stuns Taeyong into silence._

_Then the attacks come. The first one lands squarely on his arms, a muted pain much like what happened earlier when Phuong attacked Jaehyun. A second one lands on his ribs, knocking the air out of him. He gasps, holding his ribs. What the fuck is going on- Then he realizes. Jaehyun is in trouble. He needs to find him-_

_“Don’t go just yet. Your lover boy won’t fall so easily.” The knowing grin on Phuong’s face makes Taeyong’s stomach plummet to the floor. A trap. Why would Phuong trap Jaehyun? Did he leave on such a bad note that she would kill him? He grits his teeth, narrowing his eyes. “Does he know about your friends? The ones you called to save you?”_

_Taeyong is so shocked he takes a full minute to process the question._

_“My-?”_

_“They found their way here yesterday. Said they had no way of contacting you, but knew you would eventually show up. There were three of them. All tall, handsome. One was unapologetically American, he was the translator.”_

_Taeyong feels his legs give. “Johnny… they’re here.” He looks out the crack where the window is ajar, a beam of sunlight piercing through. “I...I have to go. I have to stop them.”_

_Phuong shakes her head. “They didn’t seem like they would settle for talking. It’s three dragons to one. The fight will end soon. Moreover,” she reaches over and tugs Taeyong’s shirt up, a small bruise formed where he braced when Jaehyun got hit in the ribs, “the attacks are affecting you less and less, anyway. I’ll give it a day before the transfer of injuries stops altogether.”_

_Taeyong falls to his knees. He stares at his hands in his lap, feeling a strange muted pain, not knowing who is attacking Jaehyun, but no longer feeling the attack in its fullest. He had an inkling that was something that happened, but to experience it again knowing Johnny or the two dragons- Doyoung maybe? Sicheng?- fighting Jaehyun has his heart tearing out of his chest. “I need to go-”_

_Then he’s knocked out._

_The faint smell of leather. The light rumble of engine and tires on gravel. The weak air condition in boxed confines. A car. Taeyong blinks awake, immediately surveying his surroundings._

_Yuta is the first to notice. His grip around Taeyong’s hand tightens._

_“It’s alright. We got you.”_

_Taeyong wants to protest, but something in Yuta’s eyes gives him pause. Instead of breaking out of Yuta’s hold, he squeezes Yuta’s hand a little. Johnny looks back from the front seat and Doyoung peers into the rear-view mirror; concern and relief bleeding from their expressions. Johnny asks, “How are you feeling?”_

_“Like shit, to be honest.” He tries for a sarcastic grin, but it comes out more honest than he realizes. The lump in his throat grows tighter. “Where are we going?”_

_“Back the way we came,” replies Doyoung, keeping his eyes on the road. Johnny turns back to the map on his lap. “There’s a ferry at Hai Phong that goes directly to Hong Kong. We’ll be home in a day.”_

_“Ah.” The conversation drifts into an uneasy silence. Taeyong stares at his and Yuta’s intertwined hands and swallows painfully. “Thanks for coming to get me.”_

_Yuta snorts. “Can’t have a dragon running off to elope behind my back.” he retorts without missing a beat. Something lifts from Taeyong’s chest, hearing Yuta’s words. Familiarity. Home. He’s safe. He’s finally fucking safe and away from danger, away from Jaehyun and the unknown. He sighs, giving up trying to control his life. He’s not in any position to make demands like stopping the car, turning back so he can work this out with Jaehyun._

_He has an escape. He’s planned this escape from day one._

_Jaehyun’s always known._

_He’s going home. That’s all that matters right now._

_Yuta must’ve read it in his eyes, because he squeezes Taeyong’s hand once more before letting go and nudging Taeyong with his shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you up when we get there. It’s a few more hours of driving, and we’ll probably take a short break in the middle.”_

_Taeyong nods, tucking his head into Yuta’s offered shoulder. “Okay.”_

_The bond that pulled Taeyong to Jaehyun lengthens. Further, further, then further still. The cacophony of emotions, thoughts and everything-Jaehyun grows silent until, at some point, it all but disappears. Taeyong lets out a long, shuddering breath, closes his eyes, and ignores the strange emptiness in his core._

•••

_Taeyong eventually told Yuta, Doyoung and Johnny everything, weeks after he’d returned to Hong Kong, slipping back into the routine and predictability of his job. They reacted as expected, distraught, frustrated, scared, and relieved that the nightmare was over. But Taeyong didn’t tell them about the bond that’s still there, very complete, but feeling like it’s never been there in the first place. He didn’t want them to worry, didn’t want Yuta’s daily check-ins, Doyoung’s invitation for homemade meals, and Johnny’s lighthearted (and carefully concealed concern) phone calls. He had no clue what to make of it._

_Did the completion of the bond make it disappear? Will he no longer feel Jaehyun’s thoughts and feelings, and vice versa?_

_He caught himself thinking that and stopped immediately, ears burning bright red._

_It was over. He knew it was over, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Something inside compelled him to know. Maybe it was a part of his job, to leave no stone unturned. He tried to convince himself that it was the only reason._

_So he kept an eye out for any news about Jaehyun- or Seu._

_But nothing showed up. Not even on newspapers, updated wanted posters, or other criminal profiles. Jaehyun had essentially disappeared from the face of the earth. All Taeyong knew, and he would know since he kept tabs on Jaehyun, was that his faction was taken over by his pointman, the short one. After that, the operations have shrunk over time, so much that it is labelled as non-threatening._

_The South Korean police force never investigated it. It was one less problem on their plate, and they were never known to look a gift horse in the mouth._

_But it made Taeyong very curious. In his time off, which was uncommon, he would conduct his own investigations, which mostly consisted of looking through newspapers, magazines, any media he could get his hands on. Even his Korean improved to somewhere above a conversational level. He found nothing. But he didn’t give up._

_There was no way a man like Jaehyun would retire, let alone at the self-proclaimed height of his career. And Taeyong knew in his gut that Jaehyun was not the type to sit around twiddling his fingers. He may no longer be at the forefront of his operations, but he’d definitely be in the background pulling strings, orchestrating something big. All Taeyong had to do was wait for something to slip, something to show up. He held onto this thread of hope._

_Just like that, two years passed in the blink of an eye._

_It wasn’t until a few months ago, when Taeyong flipped through the pages of a magazine as he waited for his haircut at a small salon owned by a Chinese husband and Korean wife, that he saw it._

_The article was introducing new Korean skincare brands, when a familiar face caught his eye._

_It was the pink-haired man with Jaehyun when they were hiding out in the safehouse in Vietnam. He no longer had pink hair, instead rocking an ash-pastel blue colour, which was equally ridiculous and not at all suitable for an undercover job. But Pinkie was no longer working as an undercover anything. It was all legal. The article affectionately referred to him as ‘Na Na’._

_Taeyong was baffled, digging his nose into the magazine as the stylist snipped a bit here, a bit there._

_As it were, Na Na and another man Taeyong vaguely recognized became the spokespeople for a new skincare and beauty brand called Seasons . Taeyong snorted. Was life so hard that ex-convicts that killed with their bare hands with barely a flinch had to find secondary jobs as models for a skincare? Please. His finger crooked to the corner of the page, about to flip-_

_But then, in the small corner of the pixellated picture, was a familiar slope of shoulder._

_Taeyong could recognize those tired lines anywhere. He could close his eyes and see the firm set of muscles, the tattooed tiger staring back at him._

_It couldn’t have been a coincidence._

_So he began looking into Seasons , their products, workers, whatever he could get his hands on._

_The first shop opened a year and a half ago, right in the heart of Manhattan. It featured Korean beauty and skincare products, the most popular being a snail mask pack. Further in his research, he found that the products were made near Shanghai, by a company named Zhong Enterprise which apparently produced anything and everything. Zhong Chenle, the only son of the famed Chinese conglomerate CEO, was in charge of the beauty and skincare products. Specifically, Seasons’ beauty and skincare products._

_He was Taeyong’s only connection to Jaehyun. He was the one in contact with Na Na. He must know something._

_This knowledge drove Taeyong to reach out in any capacity. Phone calls. Long-worded emails. You name it. It took many, “Please hold while we transfer your call,” before he finally, finally hit the jackpot._

_Chenle was dismissive at first, but Taeyong stayed firm and repeated why it was important to keep an eye out on his business with the ex-mass murderer._

_“It’s hard to predict what he can do. I felt it was my responsibility to let you know.”_

_There was a brief pause, like Chenle was taking in his words and thinking about it seriously. Finally, he said, “While I appreciate your concern, if working with an ex-convict took priority over everything my business wouldn’t flourish as it does. Even if he was spending black money, it is still money, and I am a businessman.”_

_A muscle tightened in Taeyong’s jaw. His patience ran thin. He had never been so flippantly brushed off before, let alone by a stranger. What’s worse, Chenle sounded like he knew what he was getting into, which begged the question of why he’d agree to partner with Jaehyun, and if there were other illegal business transactions within his company. His grip around the telephone tightened._

_“But it begs the question,” Chenle continued in a thoughtful tone, “why you seem to be so invested in this. What’s the story?”_

_“Just doing my due diligence as a law enforcer.” Taeyong gritted out._

_“Right,” trailed Chenle. Taeyong heard papers shuffle from the telephone receiver and an unexplainable nervousness settled in his stomach. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with your disappearance two years ago, would it? Says here it was a broken arm.”_

_Taeyong was stunned into silence. He’d only been on the phone with people from Zhong Enterprise for three hours. How could they have dug out his information already?-_

_“Indulge me, since you’ve already brought it to my attention. What, exactly, did I get myself into when I partnered up with Jeong Jaehyun of Seasons ?”_

_Taeyong considered lying. It wasn’t Chenle’s business. But he also sounded as dangerous, if not more, than a faction leader. A man with knowledge was a man with power._

_“You have family, don’t you?”_

_“Resorting to threats is hardly ethical, nor is it becoming of a leader.”_

_“You’re in no position to lecture me. You came to me, and it wasn’t to tip Jeong Jaehyun off. You were looking for him. No officer would go above and beyond, in their own time, to investigate this deeply into a convict who on paper has turned a new leaf and is willing to lose to anonymity than live a normal life. It’s either love or hate. Did he kill your lover?”_

_“What? No!”_

_“...then he was your lover.”_

_Taeyong grew quiet. Then finally: “Soulmate, actually.”_

_The telephone went radio silent._

_“It’s a bit of a long story, one I’ve never shared,” Taeyong rushes to explain, the apples of his cheeks tinted pink._

_To Taeyong’s shock, Chenle laughed._

_“Oh, Mr. Policeman,” Taeyong shuddered at the unexpected familiarity of this name, “I have no reason to out you for this phone call. It’s simply to satisfy my own curiosity. Please, continue your story.”_

_No one besides his nine dragons knew the story. They swore to secrecy, taking it to their graves. Being bonded and spending any amount of time with a mass murderer would send his police profile directly to the Chief Investigator’s desk. His trust would be questioned, his reputation ruined for life. Regardless, something compelled him to talk. He recounted the weeks of heat, of walking, of getting to Phuong’s settlement only to have the only chance of breaking the bond taken away from him. Of not being in control._

_When he was done, Chenle grew strangely quiet, like collecting his thoughts._

_“Do you have any intention to break the bond?”_

_“I can’t. It’s completed.”_

_“But if what Phuong emphasized was true, wherein a bond doesn’t automatically, mechanically complete like the flip of a switch, then the breaking of a bond is likely possible, even if the bond is complete.” Taeyong hadn’t thought of that before. It made sense, though he didn’t know if it would actually work in practice. Chenle continued, “Long ago, my grandma talked about a man who had the same ability as the doyen you spoke of. If breaking the bond is what you’re after, I can help you.”_

_Taeyong’s breath hitched._

_It brought him back to three years ago when Jaehyun promised him a way to break the bond. Before Yuta, Johnny and Doyoung stepped in. Before he escaped, leaving Jaehyun alone. He would be able to give the choice back to Jaehyun. They could break the bond, then finally, finally go their separate ways, no longer connected with each other._

_Jaehyun would take anything to break it, wouldn’t he? Just like he did three years ago._

_Taeyong’s heart hammered in his chest. He was getting ahead of himself. He took a shallow, shuddering breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Why would you help me? What do you want in return?”_

_“No offense, but there’s nothing you can offer that I can’t get for myself.”_

_It’s borderline arrogant, but not untrue. “None taken.”_

_A pause falls in the long distance call between them._

_“If it puts your suspicions at ease, consider it payment for you trusting me with your story.”_

_“Right. I feel like I’m talking to a triad boss.”_

_Chenle laughed, surprisingly squeaky and bright. Taeyong wonders how old he is, to make such a guileless sound. “With your experience, I’m sure it sounds that way, but I’m very genuine about this.” A soft inhale. “Every day is mundane. If I had the choice, I wouldn’t mind experiencing what you’ve experienced.”_

_“Being a fugitive in three countries while being bonded to a homicidal faction leader?”_

_Another round of bright laughter. “Any other word besides ‘being bonded’ is irrelevant.” Taeyong was about to call out Chenle’s rather romantic notion but bites back his words. “Will you take it?”_

_Taeyong looked at his feet, wondering at Chenle’s honest, almost vulnerable admission. There didn’t seem to be an ulterior motive, which would be odd anyway. Still, even if it was too good to be true, it felt like a step closer to Jaehyun. If he could see Jaehyun, if he could offer to Jaehyun what they both sought out years ago… Taeyong would take it. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, promise anything. I’ll need to talk to him first.”_

_Chenle made a confident sound. “Consider it done.”_

_A week later, Chenle sent Taeyong a plane ticket to Shanghai, and a business card of the hotel manager, Wen Junhui._

_Taeyong tried not to think about the obvious outcome. He also ignored the dull ache in his chest whenever he thought of the bond being broken, for once and for all. Instead, he wondered if Jaehyun was looking for him. Looking for him the same way he’d been looking for Jaehyun._

•••

²⁰⁰⁰  
Taeyong no longer wonders.

Their bond comes back to life, their proximity a trigger to the happy vibrations that echoed within, starting from his core to the tip of his fingers and toes. He’s flooded by the sensations; the warmth and a sense of completion fills his heart to the birm.

But it’ll all be over. 

Still, Jaehyun does not enter the room. So Taeyong waits.

And waits.

“Why?”

Taeyong’s heart skips a beat, an involuntary tingle runs down his spine, pooling in his abdomen. Jaehyun’s voice is still low and warm, steady and confident. There is something poetic about this; that after all these years, some things just don’t change. He smiles bitterly.

“Why, what?”

The response comes a moment later: “Why are you here?”

“Come in first."

“I’d rather not unless I know what I’m walking into. Are you alone?”

Taeyong folds his hands in his lap to stop himself from fidgeting, or worse, biting his nails. “You would see if you came in. I’m not going to bean you with toothpaste.”

“I would’ve caught it.” Comes the humourless answer. “What am I getting into?”

Taeyong scowls at the doors. “A friendly conversation, if that’s not too much to ask.” He fears that Jaehyun’s going to spin on his heel and walk back out. His body stands without him knowing. “Just hear me out. Please.”

A strained pause ensues. The doors still don’t open. Instead, Jaehyun speaks through it.

“There was hardly any conversation when your friends fought and knocked me out. I woke up alone, with no knowledge of what happened. I assumed the bond was broken.” A sharp intake of breath. “Never in a million years would I’ve foreseen this- us being here, our bond still intact.”

Taeyong falls silent to the unexpected shock and hurt in Jaehyun’s words. Their bond echoes a similar sentiment, sending pulses of grey and blue and purple. It overwhelms, completely enveloping him. Guilt seeps into his veins, his knees suddenly feeling weak. He hasn’t felt emotions this intensely before. It hurts… but nothing else has felt more familiar, _alive…_

But it’s wrong. And most importantly, it’ll end.

“I didn’t intend to hide from you. I was also knocked out, and woke up at the borders of Thailand and Laos. I.” Something catches in his throat, and he forces it down. “I was looking for you, but you disappeared off the face of the earth.”

Jaehyun doesn’t respond.

“I understand not wanting to be traced, given your identity. But New York? Snail slime? What are you playing at?”

“Face masks,” corrects Jaehyun, a low warning to his tone. “I didn’t realize I was under any obligation to report to you my actions or whereabouts. Have you ever considered that my life no longer had anything to do with you the very moment you left me? You walked out while I _fought_ for us. I owe you _nothing_.”

Anger rises in Taeyong as fire lights up their bond. Does Jaehyun have any idea how fucking entitled, delusional he sounds? “You may have forgotten this, but I didn’t exactly have a choice. I was brought to Vietnam and set on a journey against my fucking will. It wasn’t my face on the wanted posters. It was yours. You fought the danger that followed you.”

His voice raises to the point just below shouting. The ringing in his ears hangs the silence.

Something shifts on the other side of the door, before Jaehyun speaks, “You conniving sack of shit. You’re working with Zhong Chenle.”

Taeyong stares directly at the door. He sucks in a deep breath, gathering all the courage he has and says, “You should thank him. He found us a doyen.”


	20. 19

Jaehyun is seething. Anger roars in his ears, rage boils through his veins, rushing to his head, making him see red.

After everything he’s done to move on, Taeyong somehow,  _ somehow _ finds a way to crash back into his life, flipping it upside down, turning it inside out. Just like three years ago. Nothing’s changed. The fear of not being in control sinks in his heart, and he remembers to breathe.

Of course the bond was complete.

Of  _ fucking  _ course.

Jaehyun berates himself for not having considered that option. But how could he have known?  _ Taeyong left him. _ Left him to believe their bond was broken, that he didn’t have a reason to look back. He moved on believing that there was nothing to look back on. He didn’t look back, didn’t try to find Taeyong. He didn't even try to contact Phuong. He had no reason to, even if he was curious.

Only to have it come back and bite him in the ass.

“Didn’t you want it gone? Zhong Chenle can help us.”

Jaehyun suppresses a snarl that threatens to rip from his throat. “That was three years ago.”

“But the bond-”

“-hasn’t affected your daily life, has it? With or without the bond we’ve lived separately from each other for three years.”

“Yes, but this can conclude the unfinished business between us.” A pause. "Why? Are you scared or something?”

Jaehyun scoffs, giving no verbal response. A million thoughts run through his head. He’s no idiot. There has to be a reason for Taeyong to find him after all these years. Jun made sure he was untraceable, and Jun was the best at what he did. Not even his enemies could find him. So how did Taeyong, a mere policeman, find him?

Taeyong isn’t the type to collude with the opposite side of the law, which means he's not working with other factions, triads and other groups to hunt Jaehyun down. He's definitely not representing his police department, if his desire for privacy is anything to go by. Something must’ve happened. Something or someone must’ve convinced Taeyong to come looking for him after so long. What, or who is it? And why now?

“What do you mean, why now?” Jaehyun blinks, not realizing he spoke his thoughts. Taeyong, on the other side of the door, continues in a confused tone. “There was never an opportunity in the past. Phuong wouldn’t have agreed to help us. She held me from stopping the fight between you and. And.”

Jaehyun glares at the door. “You can say it. Your  _ friends _ , the rest of the nine dragons.”

A soft sigh. “I did. And truth be told, you knew they were coming too, so don’t paint yourself as the victim here.”

“Right. How could I?” Jaehyun sneers, hands curling into fists. “I was only in as much control as you were, grappling to make sense of the situation as it happened.”

Taeyong’s side of the bond reacts with waves of displeasure and regret. Grim satisfaction washes through Jaehyun’s chest, knowing that Taeyong’s equally out of his element. But it still begs the question. Who?

It can’t be Zhong Chenle. There’s no reason for the son of Chinese conglomerate CEO and heir to Zhong Enterprise to connect with a policeman from Hong Kong. So it must be someone else… Jaehyun’s eyes narrow, and an ugly jealousy rears from the pit of his stomach.

“Who is he?”

“Who is who?”

“Don’t play dumb. Who is he?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Three years.” Jaehyun spits out the words as though they’ve personally offended him. “The reason you want to break this bond is because you have someone else in your life, isn’t it?”

“That’s definitely not it.”

Jaehyun crosses his arms. “Even a child can tell a better lie.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then why else would you look for me?”

“I’ve already said this! I wanted to give you the choice to break the bond. I know I left y- I escaped and went back to home, to my friends and family, to where I belonged. I knew it was wrong but I,” a shallow breath, “I couldn’t help it. I didn’t have the strength to keep going. How many more weeks did we have to spend with each other before someone would agree to break us free? There was never a guarantee to begin with!"

Jaehyun is stunned to silence. Sensing his hesitation, Taeyong pushes on.

“I couldn’t bring myself to keep tabs on your reports until months later. But you disappeared without a trace,and your faction’s activities dwindled to peanuts. I thought- I thought something happened to you. But a gut feeling told me you were alive. So I looked for you. I asked anyone I could reach. Pulled all sorts of favours to get in touch with Seoul’s police department. They were useless. Don’t be so smug.”

Jaehyun shifts, the corner of his lip curling sardonically until Taeyong finishes his sentence, then he reels himself in. Taeyong could feel his emotions, his thoughts… Right. He’s forgotten what it was like.  _ Ugh, Jaehyun, get a hold of yourself! _

“It was a fluke or coincidence, when I saw you in a Korean beauty magazine that featured the opening of your beauty supply store. The only evidence in almost three years. It took a long time to get in contact with Zhong Chenle; and it took retelling our history for him to offer his help.”

At the mention of Chenle’s name, Jaehyun’s surroundings gain alarming clarity, like he’s only just realizing where he is. The door in front of him is the familiar rosewood woven into an angular, intricate design filled with translucent eggshell paper. The interlocking shapes look like they’re mocking him, daring him to step closer, reaching for the very person that his soul is bound to.

He takes a step forward. And then another.

Then something stops him in his steps, holding him ramrod straight and staring at the doors.

It’s stupid. It’s so, incredibly stupid how he suddenly has the notion that if, if he really wants to, if he tries really hard, he can stop this. Stop it and save the bond. The bond that hums warm cerulean and sunny yellow within, filling him with unexpected soothing comfort. He lets out a soft, shuddering sigh.

“All this, to break the bond.” The pain in Jaehyun’s chest tightens, but he ignores it.

He feels a tug and stiffens; Taeyong’s pulling at their bond. “I refuse to talk to a door.”

“Tough luck.”

“What if I said I wanted to see you?”

“I’m not falling for that shit again. That nerve pinch hurt like a fucker.”

“...heh, I’ll have to tell Johnny that.” Jaehyun scowls. “But seriously. We’re not doing this again.”

“‘Again’? We’ve never done  _ this _ .” But as the words leave Jaehyun’s mouth, the memories come rushing back-  _ The stuffy humidity in the air. The smell of rain and mud and nature and life. The sound of insects that wane and crest with the fall of night. The veil of the tent between them. One of his hands reaches forward to steady himself, but he catches his balance before he falls. _

“...I guess you’ve forgotten.”

The pang of hurt from their bond doesn’t go unnoticed, but Jaehyun doesn’t try to correct Taeyong. “So. Zhong Chenle knows a doyen.”

“Said he’d be able to help us break the bond.”

“He isn’t big on charity work. What does he want?”

“He… nothing. He expects nothing, which I also found hard to believe. He said this was the most entertained he’d been in a long time, and wished he had a similar experience. I guess it’s just natural for anyone who has never met their soulmate or knows very little about soulmates and bonds to be curious.”

“Curious, not generous. I don’t trust this.”

Jaehyun feels another tug on their bond.

“Can you stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“Tugging on the bond.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jaehyun demonstrates by pulling the bond back towards him with more force than necessary. He hears a tumble from the other side of the door and smirks.

“Fucker,” growls Taeyong.

“Hah, I haven’t heard that in a while.”

“It just means people don’t say it to your face. Doesn’t make you any less of one.”

“You’re right. I’ve definitely heard worse to my face, by none other than you. I recall something along the lines of ‘bloodthirsty mass murderer’.”

“You forgot the mindless part,” reminds Taeyong with a small smirk.

Jaehyun snorts. “Is this the tone you take when you ask for a favour?”

Their bond freezes with icefire immediately.

“What favour? God. For the last time,” Taeyong shuffles to his feet, glaring at the doors, “this isn’t about me. I have no other reason to break the bond other than to be done with this for once and for all! Why is that so hard to understand!”

“I assure you I have no trouble understanding. Forgive me if this all is a little hard to believe.”

Taeyong makes a frustrated sound. It sounds like he’s inches from the door, just as Jaehyun is, speaking directly at Jaehyun if it wasn’t for the layer of rosewood and eggshell paper in between.

“I don’t get you. Don’t you want to be done with this too?”

“I didn’t have three years to regret my decision to ditch the hottest man in a jungle because I got a little homesick,” “-mother f-” “so I’ve never thought there was more to do, because everything was  _ already done.  _ Sorry if this is not going according to your plan.”

“And here I thought you would actually appreciate the help!” Taeyong growls, slamming the bottom of his fist against the doorframe. He clearly doesn’t take kindly to Jaehyun’s sarcasm. “You fucking coward.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t have something to lose-” growls Jaehyun; and Taeyong: “Last time I checked, losing this bond IS the desired outcome-”

“You are  _ not _ waltzing into my life and fucking everything up again!” Shouts Jaehyun.

Taeyong laughs, loud and sarcastic. “Me? Fucking everything up? That’s grand, coming from the person who has ruined hundreds of lives. My numbers are nothing compared to yours.”

A stab of guilt and disappointment clenches around Jaehyun’s chest, making it hard to breathe as waves of emotions toil inside. He isn’t ignorant of the bad he’s done, the person he was. But he dedicated the last three years into something productive, legal, and admittedly more conducive to his and his team’s health. He was building everyone up, and it didn’t involve blood on his hands.  But that’s neither here nor there.

He lets out a shuddering breath, one he didn’t realize he held onto as he realized a few things.  He doesn’t want the bond to break. Why fix something that isn’t broken? Or why break something when it works just fine as it is? But more importantly, he thought he’d lost it for three years. He knows now that he’s always had it, and he doesn’t want to actually lose it.

He doesn’t want to lose Taeyong.

It’s stupid, laughable. He knows Taeyong wants to move on, wants to wipe his hands of Jaehyun so he can be the straight-laced policeman he’s always held pride in being. To Taeyong, Jaehyun will always and forever be a criminal. They can never be.

“You’re right. Hundreds of thousands. So what’s one more?”

A tense pause ensues.

“What do you mean?”

Jaehyun squares his shoulders, stands his ground. He will not be defeated. “We’ve already proved that we can live without each other for three years. It doesn’t matter whether the bond is completed. You can live your life, and I will live mine the way I want.”

“H-hold on. Jaehyun-”

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“I will call you whatever the fuck I want, you asshole. You’re not making any sense. This was what we wanted-”

“It’s not what I want now.”

Stunned silence.

“What do you mean!? What else could you want?”

“Something less colossal of a waste of time. You called me here so you could absolve this bond and form others? Fuck you. I’m not at your beck and call. I have more important things to do.”

“Wait!”

Jaehyun turns on his heels and briskly walks away. His heart is heavy in his chest, but he doesn’t look back. He fears that he’ll be convinced to stay, to see Taeyong’s side, to agree to break the bond. The idea of seeing Taeyong is. Is. It knocks the air out of him. He can’t. He just  _ can’t. _

It’s childish. He knows.

It’s selfish. He knows this too.

But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t! He can’t handle loss again. He can’t pitch himself in work anymore than he’s had. His attempts to repent just. Don’t. Count. And it fucking hurts.

Walking to Taeyong felt like home. Leaving him again screamed at Jaehyun from inside out. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. But it’s the only thing he knows.

He doesn’t want to lose it. He doesn’t want to lose what Taeyong meant to him.

He runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry pls don't cry it gets better i promise ; ^ ; <3


	21. 20

Jaehyun disappears.

He’s alive, that much Taeyong’s certain. Their bond still hums with aftershock emotions since the night at Shangri La. But no matter what venue Taeyong goes through or how hard he tries, he can’t find Jaehyun. Chenle brushes him off to protect his business partnership with Seasons NY. Jaehyun’s faction completely shut down. And the one time he called Jaehyun’s café, 77, he’s met with a begrudgingly polite, ‘The boss just stepped out. Can I take a message?’ to which Taeyong finds himself at a loss of words.

What could he even say?

He hangs up after saying a quick, British-accented, _Thank you_ , and scrambles for another way to find Jaehyun. All the while the aftershock emotions settle inside.

That night at Shangri La, Jaehyun’s thoughts and feelings weren’t muffled or muted. They were on full display, bright and clear as the morning sky. He felt Jaehyun’s fear, like a cornered animal, forced to show his hand or escape into hiding. It was nothing like Taeyong expected. Seu from three years ago would’ve taken Chenle’s offer without batting a lash. But Jaehyun, this Jaehyun, ran away.

Loss.

Jaehyun was forced to deal with the loss of their bond three years ago. He moved on.

And now that loss falls to Taeyong’s heart. With it comes an overwhelming sense of guilt.

God. He just _assumed_. He could’ve done so many other things, but he was so driven to give Jaehyun what he thought Jaehyun wanted, he didn’t realize… so many things. It keeps him awake and thinking, driving him to further frenzy as he searches for the ever elusive man. Could’ve. Should’ve. Would’ve. If something had gone differently, he might have at least caught a glimpse of Jaehyun before the other turned tail. But no. He lost his only chance of seeing Jaehyun.

Everything stops.

Taeyong lies on his bed, not having the motivation for- anything. He goes to work, sure. But he doesn’t hang out with his friends, doesn’t call his sister and talk to his nephew, doesn’t cook, read, watch a movie. He clutches his fist and rolls to his side to see pained gold eyes stare at him.

It’s a dream.

It has to be, because Jaehyun is long gone, but he’s here, in front of Taeyong, watching him with anger, hurt, disappointment. Taeyong wants to reach out to stop Jaehyun from running, to apologize and understand Jaehyun’s emotions. But he knows it will never ever happen.

In a snap, he falls into darkness. His arms swing forward, grasping for anything to pull himself out. But there’s nothing around him. It’s like he’s underwater, struggling for air where there is none while the pressure crushes his bones, collapsing his lungs.

He wakes up drenched in sweat from his head, down his chest and back, soaking into the sheets. His breath comes out in short pants, and a dreadfully heavy regret weighs down his entire body.

It’s pathetic.

“Let’s go for spicy beef noodles.”

Taeyong bites his lip, crossing an arm and looking at the clean, empty state of his small apartment. He pictures Doyoung’s unimpressed expression in his head and nearly snickers. That would be a one-way ticket to more nagging. “I’m busy.”

“It’s Saturday, and you’ve been busy for weeks now.”

“Yes well,” he makes a show of ruffling a stack of outdated newspapers, nevermind the fact that they all highlight Jaehyun’s deeds that ended in gruesome bloodbath, “there’s a case I’m on, and I’d rather spend more time researching than slurping noodles.”

“You’re going to lose muscle mass, you bamboo stick.”

Taeyong scowls. “My muscles are just fine thank you very much. I still train every week.”

“Oh really? Cos Chan see-fu said he hasn’t seen you in weeks either.”

Filial piety or no, damn Chan see-fu and his big mouth. Taeyong pulls a face, curtly saying, “I’ve been going to the gym in the police dorms.”

Doyoung makes a sound like he doesn’t believe him. Taeyong doesn’t blame him. He’s known to be a piss poor liar, but he’s not about to admit to having feelings for an ex-convict to his best friends. _Waitwhat-_

“Best that you open the door before Yuta breaks it.”

“Uh-”

The door swings open and Yuta and Doyoung spill into his small apartment in the loud, obnoxious that only they are capable of. In their arms are bags filled with things; Taeyong thinks it might be chaos. Yuta takes out the fruits, eggs, rice and snacks, shoving them all into the fridge. Doyoung saves the bag of chips, leaving it on the table top where it is within an arm’s reach. Taeyong watches with unimpressed eyes, crossing his arms.

“What is it this time?”

“My lovely charm and beautiful smile,” replies Yuta, demonstrating said smile.

“He means wine,” Doyoung corrects, recounting the security’s cheery welcome when Yuta deposited the gift as they entered the building, before taking the elevator to Taeyong’s unit. “And before you kick us out, when was the last time you ate?”

Taeyong opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish, then wrinkles his nose as he looks away. “Morning.”

Doyoung arches an eyebrow. “ _This_ morning?”

Taeyong _hates_ it. “Yesterday morning,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t need to turn around to see Doyoung’s unamused expression, making him feel like a five year old again. “Weren’t we going to get food?”

Doyoung and Yuta hold each other’s gaze before Doyoung nods. Taeyong steers Yuta out of his small desk, where Jaehyun’s file is open and filled with news clippings dating back a decade. Taeyong is the last to leave, turning off the lights, and they’re out the door.

Dinner is a simple affair at a small hawker stall down the street. They specialize in spicy beef noodles, Yuta’s favourite. Doyoung orders two bottles of Blue Girl beer, to Taeyong’s surprise.

“I thought you didn’t like beer.”

“Johnny grew a taste for it after Thailand, so I drink it from time to time,” explains Doyoung. He looks pointedly at Taeyong, who turns his gaze away and tucks his hands in his arms.

Yuta looks between them and quickly clears his throat, expertly pouring out three portions. “Less talking. More drinking!”

“Why does it feel like you’re trying to get me drunk-” starts Taeyong.

“We’re definitely not, cross our hearts and-” interjects Yuta.

“-hope to die? Definitely don’t need that on my conscience.” Taeyong wrinkles his nose. Doyoung raises his cup and Yuta and Taeyong follow, clinking the glass in a satisfying way. Taeyong drinks down half the glass. Yuta grins, and Doyoung puts in the orders with his polite, best-behaviour smile. The crabby waiter gives a soft grunt as he scribbles down their order.

In ten minutes, three bowls of steamy noodles and a plate of braised beef tendons serve at their table. They dig in.

“Still don’t get how you can eat that stuff,” Taeyong pokes at a tendon.

“Collagen, dude.” Yuta pokes at his smooth, plump cheek for effect.

“Acquired texture notwithstanding, it’s made really well here.” Doyoung plucks one up between his chopsticks. “Still don’t get why you’re hung up over getting kidnapped.”

Taeyong chokes.

Yuta helpfully hands over a sheet of Tempo, hitting his back lightly to help dislodge the food. Taeyong glares at Doyoung with wetness in the corners of his eyes. Doyoung glares right back. “So?”

Taeyong slowly puts down his chopsticks and crosses his arms. “This feels like an ambush."

"You had it coming. Stop avoiding the question."

“So what if I do?”

“That’s not a very mature way of dealing with problems.”

“Says who?”

“Says the other thirty-three year olds at the table.”

Taeyong sticks his tongue out. Still, he hesitates to answer.

They finish their meal quickly, moving onto nursing their beers as a comfortable silence settles. Doyoung bites his lip three times in the last minute, and Taeyong knows Yuta’s not about to drop the topic lightly. It tugs something inside Taeyong’s chest. He knows they worry, care. He tries to not think of them as overbearing, they were the ones who saved him three years ago. But if they hadn’t. If he was left in the jungle with Jaehyun. If he’d _stayed_.

Yuta breaks the silence first.

“It’s been three years. Why are you still going after him?”

Taeyong sighs, hanging his head as his grip around the beer glass tightens.

Isn’t that the million dollar question?

Taeyong no longer has the right or reason to demand Jaehyun’s attention. He should’ve given up when the deal at Shangri La fell apart. But the way it ended was so… messy. He wants to do it right. Even if Jaehyun said he’s moved on, Taeyong felt something through their bond that makes him question Jaehyun’s words. A small voice inside wonders if this is something he felt, or something he hoped to feel.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to put him behind bars that badly?”

The mere thought of Jaehyun behind bars freezes Taeyong’s insides. “No. I.” _I don’t think I can_. “It’s not about that.” Neither Yuta nor Doyoung respond to that, so he continues. “I recently, well, a few weeks ago, had an encounter with him.”

This causes a few eyebrows to raise. Doyoung asks almost anxiously, “Did he find you?”

Taeyong shakes his head. “I went looking for him but- I don’t know why. At first I thought it was just old habits; keeping tabs on criminals, taking preventive measures as opposed to reacting when it’s too late. But his faction grew smaller and smaller, then he disappeared from frontline machinations altogether. I… looked for him.”

“How did you find him?”

“He. I. Well. A magazine. It’s a bit of a long story, but I got a hold of his manufacturer, who helped schedule a meeting for us. It, um, didn’t really go as planned.”

Yuta’s eyes narrow. “Was that the Friday two weeks ago when you brushed us off because you were feeling sick?”

Taeyong wisely keeps his mouth shut. Yuta and Doyoung make sputtering sounds of indignation for the next minute, and Doyoung bunny-punches his shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything! Why haven’t you said anything since??”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Taeyong waves his arms around in surrender, but Doyoung’s short jabs don’t stop. It’s not like he punches hard, but they still _hurt_. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you! It just took me a while to process everything!”

Doyoung’s eyes burn fiercely. “What the hell! Was he in Hong Kong?”

“Shanghai, actually,” Taeyong has the decency to look sheepish.

Doyoung jumps to his feet. “ _You flew out to Shanghai to meet a mass murderer???_ ”

Yuta yanks him down. “Any louder and the entire street will know,” he hisses. Doyoung shakes Yuta’s hand off before closing a fist around the front of Taeyong’s shirt, eyes narrowed.

“You have thirty seconds to explain what the fuck happened. I can’t believe you went without backup. Did you learn nothing from last time you were kidnapped?”

“I know, I know,” Taeyong surrenders. “I didn’t think it through. I just leapt at the chance to see him again I didn’t think. I didn’t plan. I was so fucking stupid I just- I.” His words come out in short pants, the guilt wells up in his stomach again. “I found a way to break the bond. I thought it was what he wanted, so I went to meet him, present him with the offer. But I didn’t even see him! He figured out what was going on and didn’t enter the room.”

Doyoung’s grip slacks, sliding to Taeyong’s hand where it stayed. He falls back to his chair. Yuta senses Taeyong’s discomfort and reaches over to squeeze Doyoung’s hand, a tightness around his eyes and lips. Doyoung lets go.

“Sorry.”

Taeyong shakes his head, letting out a shallow breath. “I should be the one apologizing for worrying you. I’m sorry.” He meets Yuta’s eyes. “I really didn’t mean to hide it from you guys. It’s just, a lot of thoughts came up all at the same time. I didn’t see him, but we talked and I. I realized I was wrong. I thought he’d be happy that I found a way to break the bond, but he thought the bond was broken three years ago. He didn’t say it outright, but I felt his anger, frustration as he recalled it. It was like he blamed me for abandoning him.”

Doyoung opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it and pulls back. Taeyong shoots him a crooked smile.

“I know what you’re thinking. Sounds a lot like a twisted version of the Stockholm Syndrome, doesn’t it? I thought about that too, but I don’t think that’s it.”

“Those emotions you felt, was it from the bond? Or was it from him?”

“A bit of both, I think.” Taeyong shuffles in his seat, finding the best words to describe the weird, invisible string tying him to Jaehyun. “I didn’t realize how strongly emotions could be felt through the bond. That night, I felt him before he arrived at our dinner room. He also felt my presence too. And the emotions were- they were so strong. It’s like the dam that held back everything broke. I felt- everything.”

A heavy pause falls between them.

“Do you… like him?”

Taeyong looks up to Yuta, who regards him with an unreadable expression. He chews on his bottom lip. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m feeling.” He doesn’t miss when Doyoung and Yuta meet eyes. For a moment, he’s afraid what they’ll say, because if it’s anything that he’s been thinking about, he’d have to confront it-

Yuta sighs. “You said you talked, but he ran away?” Taeyong nods. “Think you can let it go?”

Taeyong sighs too. “I don’t want to come to that.”

“Not all loose ends can be tied in a pretty bow, you know.”

“I know, I know. I probably sound obsessive. I just can’t help but think that there’s still something more to this.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Gut feeling.”

A strange, contemplative silence settles.

Doyoung reaches for his beer first. Yuta also takes a sip. Taeyong downs the rest of his glass. Doyoung dutifully tops it up again.

“I know I need to move on, and I promise I will. I just need to figure this out first.” Taeyong says finally, staring blankly at a spot on the table. “I don’t want to give myself a time frame, I want to take my time with it. But, well, if it eases your mind, I promise I won’t run off on spontaneous dinners with ex-faction leaders anymore.”

Doyoung scoffs at this, breaking the tension. “Ex-faction leader. You sure know how to choose ‘em.”

Taeyong takes another drink of his beer.

“Let it be on the record that I think your idea is absolutely idiotic,” Doyoung starts.

“-me too,” chimes Yuta.

“but I know nothing we say can stop you.” Doyoung exhales softly. “At least you’re good at learning your lessons.”

The corners of Taeyong’s mouth quirk up. “Something like that.” Then he takes a serious tone. “If I need help I’ll let you know.”

“Don’t make us comb through three countries again. My emergency-leave days are limited.”

Taeyong snickers. “Two countries is okay, then?”

Doyoung levels Taeyong with a glare that has Taeyong bursting in another round of chuckles. “No country, preferably,” he says wryly. “But if you’re going to travel, make it somewhere with less mosquitoes.”

Yuta catches Taeyong’s arm in his hand in a loose grip. Taeyong looks at him with a question in his eyes. Yuta gazes right back, steady and unwavering. “Where are you going next?”

Taeyong sucks in a breath, remembering the plane ticket he’s already bought in the sleeve of Jaehyun’s profile folder. “New York probably.”

Yuta squeezes his arm once, nodding distractedly. Concern etches between his brows, but he doesn’t hold Taeyong back like Taeyong expects. All he says is: “Be careful.”

Taeyong steels his resolve and nods. “I will. Promise.”


	22. 21

Taeyong visits the diner across _Seasons_ for the fifth day in a row. This probably counts as suspicious behaviour, but he plays it off as the ‘new guy in town’, striking up friendly conversations with the waiter to learn more about the city and more specifically the Korean beauty store across the street.

The waiter is extremely friendly as he cheerfully titters that _Seasons_ has great skincare products, though he’s never tried them. He also notes the two handsome store owners, Jaemin and Jeno, close the shop at the end of every day. He shares this with a soft blush and quirky smile. Taeyong looks at the cardboard-cutouts of the two, and can’t blame the waiter. They truly capture their beauty and grace, when they’re not killing with a poker face.

Taeyong knows they’re doing their best to put their past behind them, but what of the lives they’ve already taken?

He sips his coffee and pretends to look at some papers in a generic manilla folder, rifling in his suitcase, and not-so-suspiciously gazing over at the Korean beauty and skincare shop.

“Haven’t done much undercover work, have you?” asks a voice behind Taeyong. He jumps.

It’s the pointman. It’s been three years and he still looks the same.

Taeyong scans his trim figure for any concealed weapons and finds none. Well, none without physically frisking the other man. But he’s neither a policeman nor have the jurisdiction for that. He settles back in his seat, slowly bringing the cup of coffee to his hands and grunts.

The pointman watches him with a glint of amusement in his eyes, a quirk to his lips. He takes a seat across from Taeyong. “You’re looking for him.” Taeyong tries to conceal his surprise. “Doesn’t take much to put the two together.”

An uneasy feeling sits in Taeyong’s stomach. He mentally maps out the diner in his mind, the flow of people, entrances and exits. Assuming that the pointman isn’t carrying a gun, if a fight were to break out he’d probably make it out alive. His lips pull into a thin line.

Unknown to his thoughts, the pointman gestures to the shop and cafe in front of them and asks, “What do you think?”

“What?”

“The toners and lotions and snail slime. The ice americano and latte and desserts. All this.”

“They look… good? Must’ve been a lot of work.”

The pointman stares at him for a long, long time. Then he leans back on his red vinyl chair and smiles like he knows a secret. “You’re looking for him,” he repeats. “You flew all the way to New York City to look for him. What are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

The pointman raises a finely sculpted eyebrow.

“Well, a conversation would be nice.”

A cough. “That’s a tall order. You blew your last chance.”

Something in Taeyong stills. Of course the pointman knows. He was probably the one who green-lighted the dinner meeting. “It’s different this time. I really just want to talk to him. Nothing else.”

The pointman stares at him, then places both hands on the table. A waiter walks by, and asks if the pointman wants anything, to which he replies with a polite but charming smile, “I’ll have an orange pekoe, thank you.”

They don’t speak again until the tea arrives.

Taeyong barely hides his disdain as the pointman thanks the waiter. “Wearing a new skin must be second nature to you.”

“I wasn’t aware cordial conversation would profile me as a skin-wearing monster.” Taeyong stops himself in time before throwing a fist at the smirking face. “You might need a lesson on basic social etiquette.”

“Mind your own business.”

“Why aren’t you at work, Mr. Pretty Policeman?” taunts the pointman.

“My name is Lee Taeyong,” corrects Taeyong through grit teeth.

“My name is Huang Renjun,” mocks Renjun, light as a birdie on a badminton racket. Taeyong crosses his arms.

“Is that a fake name?”

Renjun’s smile widens to a smirk. “You can also refer to me as 東北大哥.”

“I’d no sooner call you 東北大哥 as I would be found colluding with the wrong people.”

“Oh?” A meaningful pause. “Any evidence can be used against you.”

Taeyong doesn’t know if he’s imagined the sound of a camera shutter clicking off. His hands curl into fists. “What do you want?”

Renjun rests his chin on his clasped hands, tilting his head slightly. The cold, calculative light in his eyes is unshakeable. “That’s my question. What will you gain from this conversation?”

“Closure, hopefully. The permanent kind.”

Renjun snorts, crossing his arms _._ “You’re unarmed.”

“Yes.”

“Trained.”

“Yes.”

“Your mother and sister-”

“Are alive and well, residing in Seoul. My father has retired from the force after serving for 42 years. He is in Hong Kong. You can make all the threats by not making any, and it will change nothing. This is between Jaehyun and I.”

Something in Renjun’s eyes changes. He leans back a little, like truly taking Taeyong in as he is, completely, for the first time. Taeyong almost shivers under the intense scrutiny. “You’ve had your chance. As far as I’m concerned, that’s one too many chances offered to anyone who’s ever wanted his attention. Do you realize the loss Zhong Chenle took for allowing the stunt you pulled? It’s hundreds upon thousands of dollars.”

“Then he should’ve thought twice before working with a-”

“Who are you to judge a person’s character by their past?”

“Your current actions do not absolve you of past actions and behaviours. Murder is murder, Mr. Huang.”

Renjun shakes his head curtly. “Yet this all began because of a soulmate bond. I too would like to see its end, if it means removing you completely from his life. You tricked him, but you won’t see me pointing fingers.”

Taeyong falls back like he was struck. Guilt creeps into his veins as he remembers the first time he and Jaehyun met, in the dingy restaurant below an underpass in MongKok. He ducks his head. “That night at Shangri La, he and I never saw each other. We spoke through a door, anyone could’ve eaves-dropped. Yet he remained unharmed. I can guarantee that much, if you let me see him.”

“Just what are you trying to achieve?”

“Are you really asking me that?” His eyes meet Renjun’s unwavering gaze, then he sighs, scrubbing his hair into an unruly mop. “I just- I want to understand how he truly feels. I feel that I’ve wronged him for three years, kept him in the dark, kept him from moving on. I’ve assumed so much, and wrongly so. Now, I want to apologize to him, make it right somehow.”

Renjun seems unimpressed. “He’s trying to move on, you know. This,” He nods at _Seasons_ and _77_ , “was done to get us out. Most of us are out. Those who remained chose to stay in the system, but their offer was on the table. He made sure of it. But ever since he came back from Shanghai, he’s thrown himself into work. His computer logs suggest anywhere between two to four hours of sleep every night.”

“I-”

Then, from the corner of Taeyong’s eye he sees a familiar arch of back, the same silhouette that haunted his dreams. He leaps to his feet and darts out the door, to Renjun’s strangled cry- “Wait!”

He doesn’t. He watches the back of Jaehyun tuck into a car, an unassuming black Hyundai Sonata, before driving off. Taeyong quickly hops into a cab, giving frantic but clear instructions to follow the white car. His heart pounds in his ears, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

The car pulls into a narrow parking garage of a building. Taeyong instructs the cabbie driver to stop a block before it, counting exact change for a 15% tip, and quickly hopping off.

It’s a five story building in the Upper East end, near Central Park. It’s not the central location Taeyong remembered from Jaehyun’s description, but thought it was more suitable considering, well, everything.

He camps outside of the building for another three days, waiting for Jaehyun to show up. No such luck. He considers marching straight into the building and knocking on every door, but that’s atrociously inefficient and against his training. He leaves his bushy perch exactly twice a day; once to freshen up and to get food, and once to make rounds around the block, noting anything that might look amiss or suspicious.

It isn’t until the late afternoon of the fourth day, that he receives a call on his cellphone. It should, by no means, be ringing in a country he is not in, but he answers it all the same.

“Hello?”

“Last I was aware, stalking is considered illegal,” comes the dry response.

Taeyong feels a familiar vibration of mocking tease through their bond, and an unexpected sense of relief washes over him. They’re still connected which, of course they are but. Jaehyun isn’t blocking him out. He’s using it like he did three years ago. He looks up quickly, scanning all the windows before he sees a familiar form peeking from behind the windows of the top floor. He blushes.

“I see you,” Jaehyun says, giving a two-finger salute.

“How did you get my phone number? This shouldn’t even be possible!” Sputters Taeyong, arms flailing.

“And yet.” A shuffle. “Renjun works his magic, like he always does.”

Renjun, of course. An ugly jealousy rears its head in Taeyong’s chest, and he struggles to squash it. “I- Fuck. Forget it. Look, can we talk? I won’t be long.”

A strange pause ensues, then comes Jaehyun’s stiff reply: “We’re talking right now.”

“Not what I meant.”

“What do you want?”

Taeyong draws a deep breath, calming his nerves, then he exhales. “I know I fucked up. I shouldn’t have put words in your mouth, made assumptions without knowing your thoughts and how you felt. I just. I really need to see you.”

“You see me.”

“Yes but this isn’t. I need-”

“You need to leave the premise if you know what’s good for you.” Jaehyun says in a mix of danger and condescension. “There are plenty of people here more dangerous than your average neighbour in Hong Kong. This is America.”

“Thank you for the news flash, I wasn’t aware I was in America when I stepped off the plane,” Taeyong shoots back hotly. “Just give me five minutes. Please. I really am sor-”

Glass shatters in front of Jaehyun’s face as gunshots ring in Taeyong’s ears. What- what the fuck? More gunshots ring in the quiet street, jolting Taeyong to leap from his spot. _Jaehyun! Fucking fucking fuck. This can’t. Happen._

He runs up the stairs, taking three a time, heart pounding in his chest. Each step brings him closer. He feels like his heart’s about to jump out of his mouth. Their bond is a fucking mess, it’s hot and cold all over, but Taeyong can feel Jaehyun’s shock and anger, followed by something colder and calculative. A shiver runs down Taeyong’s spine. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay. As long as Jaehyun’s still alive.

He reaches the fifth floor in record time. The front door to the Spanish apartment is slightly ajar, so he slowly approaches. Their bond becomes deathly quiet. Taeyong inhales softly, deeply, then enters the apartment.

Immediately, he sees two men lying on the ground a few feet from the door. Unresponsive, possibly lifeless, if the growing pools of blood around them are anything to go by. He carefully skirts around them, peeks around a corner and comes face to face with the barrel of Jaehyun’s gun.

He stills in his steps.

The rays of the setting sun streams from the shattered window behind Jaehyun, outlining his silhouette with glittering gold, and Taeyong promptly forgets to breathe.

Jaehyun lowers his gun a millimetre, a fierce scowl to his face. “Jesus fuck, I was about to kill you.” Then he freezes. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Taeyong’s flabbergasted. “What the hell do you mean what am I doing here? We were-”

The cellphone in Jaehyun’s hand vibrates. He picks it up in a split second. A muffled voice says something, and Jaehyun’s golden eyes harden. Their bond freezes over so quickly that Taeyong feels his heart fall to his stomach- _confusionfurydangerdangerdanger._ Jaehyun hangs up without saying a word, and shifts his glare back on Taeyong. A hand bunches around the front of Taeyong’s shirt before roughly tugging him in. Taeyong stumbles.

“What are you doing?” Taeyong shrieks.

“What the fuck are you playing at?”

“What?” Taeyong’s steps falter. “What are you talking about?”

“This can’t be a coincidence now, can it?” Jaehyun shoots back. “I can’t fucking believe you.” Without waiting for a response, he pushes Taeyong into the wall and points his 1911 at Taeyong’s chest.

Taeyong’s eyes widen as he realizes Jaehyun’s implication. “I wasn’t working with them! I came here to find you, to talk.”

“Right. Because a cop would run into a building that’s being shot at! Definitely something a logical human being would do. I must’ve missed the memo somewhere.”

“Fuck. You. I’m not weak or helpless, I know how to protect myself!”

“That’s not the fucking point. No one in their right minds would run into a building _that’s getting shot_! You could’ve been confirming my death for all I know.”

“But-”

“Save your fucking excuses.”

Just then, a team of black-clad men burst into the apartment, expertly removing the bodies and removing all evidence. Jaehyun spares Taeyong a withering look before roughing him down the stairs and into a black, nondescript van. Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Have villains got no better design choice than a boring black van?” he grumbles, shaking Jaehyun’s grip off his shoulder before climbing into the back seat. Renjun is seated in the passenger seat, while a vaguely familiar face takes the steering wheel. They speed off as Jaehyun closes the door.

“No one gives a fuck about design choices.” Jaehyun turns to Renjun and orders, “Jun, get him out of this fucking country.”

Taeyong nearly gets whiplash. “Excuse me?”

“But he’s clear,” Renjun protests.

“Did I fucking stutter?” growls Jaehyun, each word punctuated with unwavering fury. Renjun glares back just as hard, every line in his body tight as a bow string, ready to be released at the slightest trigger. Jaehyun snarls, furiously scrubbing his hair back in a way that had no right looking this handsome, nor making Taeyong’s heart do strange things. “Ji, circle and point B.”

Taeyong gapes. Ji. The same lanky boy from three years ago. Jesus. He’s grown so much taller. His voice, deep and laced with concern, pipes in. “Boss, what happened?”

Jaehyun’s expression hardens. “The typical shoot out. Took care of it. Then this genius had the bright idea of running into the building that was being shot at, in a country where guns were much more easily accessible than Asia.”

“But-” interrupts Taeyong.

“No.” A hard glare. “As a cop who needs to think quickly on their feet, you’re grotesquely incapable of making the right call. You didn’t even realize the situation until it was under your fucking nose, Lee Taeyong.”

Anger flares in Taeyong’s core and trembles through his body. “I’m incapable of making the right call? Please. You’re the one bleeding from shrapnel! You’re in no position to lecture me on safety, Jung Jaehyun.”

_“You could’ve fucking died!”_

A deafening silence ensues.

Renjun exhales slowly, typing something into his phone. Jaehyun stares dispassionately out the front, and Jisung wordlessly steers them through the streets, freeways, and lots, throwing off any tails. Half an hour later, he pulls into a small lot in an old school yard, then Renjun quickly hops off to make a few calls. Jisung keeps his head low, checking all blindspots every handful of seconds.

Taeyong watches the grey leather seating smear with blood in poorly concealed horror and disgust. “Not gonna patch yourself up?”

A muscle jumps in Jaehyun’s jaw. He touches Jisung’s shoulder, who hops out of the car, tapping out a cigarette as he does. The door closes behind him, firm and resolute.

Before Taeyong says another word, Jaehyun punches his cheek squarely. It doesn’t break anything, but enough to prepare Taeyong for the next hit, which he blocks. Taeyong tries to gain the upper hand with a series of hits, but nothing lands. Jaehyun returns with more jabs and knees, given the small space.

Taeyong pants and growls, falling to his back after one wrong move. Then Jaehyun presses the edge of his dagger into Taeyong’s neck. A soft tug, then a line of red appears. Taeyong stills, but his gaze doesn’t waver either. He grabs Jaehyun’s wrist without glancing down, like following the string that connects them. Jaehyun doesn’t pull back.

Heat spreads, warm and familiar, just like how it used to.

Above, Jaehyun’s eyes flare a glittering gold. Darker, somehow, but with the same intensity. Taeyong feels his heart hammering in his chest. The same rush of adrenaline, fear and delicious, delicious attraction rushes through his veins and pools at his core.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, sauntering into my business time and time again, unearthing everything I’ve worked so hard to build just to fuck it all up?”

Taeyong swallows the lump in his throat. _This is it. He can’t fuck up again._

“I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry for assuming what you wanted, for not realizing what you hoped to achieve, what you accomplished. I’m sorry for stepping into your business time and time again, manipulating your relationship with Zhong Chenle. I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark about the bond. And I’m sorry for leaving you in the jungle.”

Jaehyun doesn’t pull back. The pressure against Taeyong’s neck doesn’t ease.

Taeyong sucks in a shallow breath, a bud of hope blooming in his chest. “I came here to say that. Just that. I didn’t mean for anything else to happen, didn’t expect to be in a gun fight either or I would’ve come a little more prepared.” He smiles wryly. “I wasn’t working with anyone.”

They stare at each other for what feels like a long time, before Jaehyun eases off, tucking away his dagger. “I know.”

Taeyong blinks. “You know… what exactly?”

“If Jun says you’re clear, then you’re clear.”

The words affect Taeyong differently. He can’t suppress his feelings even if he tried. Jaehyun stares. “You-”

A tap on the window stops his words. He climbs to his feet, straightening his clothes before tapping the window in response.

Renjun pokes his head in, glances at Taeyong’s lying form on the car floor like it’s a normal occurrence, then turns back to Jaehyun. “Earliest flight to HKG from JFK is at 20:46.”

Jaehyun glances at his watch. “Clean up?”

Renjun shakes his head. “Too much glass. Some witnesses too, none willing to mind their business. Best to lay low for now.”

Jaehyun sighs. “Get Ji.”

Renjun scowls, but nonetheless does as told. Taeyong feels slightly miffed. As Renjun leaves he turns to Jaehyun and says, “Did it ever occur to you that I have a return ticket?”

“Not scheduled soon enough.” Jaehyun shoots back. He checks his wristwatch. “You won’t have time to go back and get your things.”

“Showing up to a long distance flight with no suitcase is suspicious.”

“Better than dying on foreign soil.”

Taeyong pauses, his mind running a mile a minute. Sure, everything in the hotel is replaceable, and he carried his passport with him, but this is so sudden. Is the danger so grave, that he can’t stay? How often does this happen that Jaehyun isn’t even fazed by it? What’s happened in the last three years?

His mind is bombarded with questions, but the first that comes out is: “Are you coming with me?”

Jaehyun snorts, deigning to answer. Taeyong expects as much.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Silence. “Fine. I’ll go. Would appreciate it if you could pick up my stuff and mail it back to me. I left my favourite leather jacket behind.”

Renjun returns with Jisung, who smells of cigarettes and makes Taeyong’s face contort into a puckering expression. “Nasty habit.”

Ji rolls his eyes, then their gazes meet in the rear view mirror, and he almost chokes the brake. “Wait. Weren’t you the policeman from three years ago when-”

“Jesus, Ji. Keep your eyes on the road!” hollers Renjun.

Jaehyun snacks him upside the head, and Jisung grumbles a little, but returns his eyes to the road. After a few minutes of silence, he mutters. “Damn. You’ve gotten smaller too.”

Taeyong sighs. “And you haven’t changed one bit.”

They arrive at the airport in ten minutes. Renjun hops off the car to ‘finish some paperwork’, while Jisung takes one look at him, then shuffles away, wedging another cigarette between his teeth. Taeyong wrinkles his nose.

“You should get him to quit.”

Jaehyun hums. “It won’t take unless he wants to quit himself.”

Taeyong makes a face. “It’s worth making an effort. You’ve retrained and relocated him, haven’t you?”

Jaehyun looks away. “I needed men I could trust.”

Taeyong grins wryly. “Sentimental old fart.”

“I can break your ribs one by one right now, with my bare hands.”

“ _Violent_ sentimental old fart,” corrects Taeyong. He nevertheless puts a bit more space between them, just in case. But looking at Jaehyun’s profile against the fluorescent terminal, hits Taeyong differently. Like something ratchets inside his chest, and he knows exactly what it is. “Wait.”

Jaehyun turns, a question to his eyes. He looks down at Taeyong’s hand on his arm, then back up at Taeyong. Taeyong feels nervous, but he doesn’t let go.

“Is this it?”

Jaehyun’s brows furrow. “What were you expecting?”

“I. I don’t know. More talking. I wanted- no. I thought that maybe we would, um, work out our differences.”

A glint of something flits across Jaehyun’s eyes. “We can’t be friends.”

Taeyong’s heart sinks. “Oh.”

Jaehyun looks like he wants to say more, but Renjun returns with Taeyong’s flight ticket and a slim book. “It’s a long flight,” he explains. “This might give you something to do.”

Taeyong awkwardly accepts the ticket and book with a curt _Thanks_ , then waves as Renjun excuses himself to hop on another call. Taeyong turns back to Jaehyun, but the other’s looked away. This is it. This is the end. No more looking back.

He tries to smile. “Well, bye then.”

Jaehyun shifts, not meeting his eyes. “Bye.”

•••

Taeyong sits in the airport terminal, his heart in his hands.

It’s the evening, and there are flights arriving and departing every five minutes. The noise around him stays a constant buzz, but it doesn’t register. Nothing really registers. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he should go to the gates, Renjun’s already checked him in, but he can’t bring himself to go. He looks at the book Renjun gave him and wishes he didn’t take it.

A notebook. Diary, to be exact.

He stares at it, bereft and emotionally exhausted. _This might give you something to do._ What did Renjun want him to do with this? He-

Taeyong feels the danger before he sees it, but he moves too slowly to block the attack.

He’s knocked out before he hits the ground.


	23. 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello. Missed me? :) Apologies for the wait. I've had a really busy month with regards to work, then my mental health decided to take a plunge. But I'm back with a new chapter! :) Thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy this update!

Taeyong wakes up with a cold slap to the face. He chokes back a breath, eyes snapping open as pain blooms across his cheek. The room spins briefly before zooming into sharp focus.

The space is sparsely lit, but the glare from the man is unmistakable. He stands at an arm’s length away, cigarette stained fingers fisting the front of Taeyong’s shirt. From the man’s stubby stature, grease-slicked hair, menacing face and pathetically weak posture, and the two men standing behind him with their revealed weapons, he’s probably-

“You sure like to sleep, eh?”

A thick New Yorker accent. Taeyong closes his eyes briefly. “Being sleep deprived for the better part of almost four years has that effect,” he replies with as much nonchalance as he can muster. A bad guy. Taeyong’s almost angry he was caught so easily. Distracted by  _ emotions _ , of all things. He needs to get his act together.

“Didn’t expect you to be out for a couple hours. You missed your flight.”

Taeyong lets out a soft sigh. The pain from being knocked out aches behind his eyes like a bad migraine. Though, to be fair, he can feel one coming from interacting with this man and his goons. He tries for ignorance. “I um, think you have the wrong person.”

“Nope!” He pops the ‘p’, and Taeyong’s hands that are bound to either side of the chair twitch. “I don’t think so.”

“This really, really can’t be right,” Taeyong grumbles. “Who are you?”

“No one you need to worry your pretty head with. I said, you’re good.”

Then Taeyong realizes. He’s in Jaehyun’s apartment again, which is surprisingly spotless considering it was literally a bloody mess hours ago. It is empty where the windows were supposed to be, and a cool breeze with a hint of street meat wafts into the apartment ever so often. Taeyong looks at the boss’ hand bunching up his shirt, then back up. “Look, I don’t know you, but you really got the wrong guy. Let me g-” He stops when the man flashes an ugly, shit-eating grin. Then the man draws up a flimsy video tape, and a sinking feeling falls to Taeyong’s stomach.

It’s pixelated and in poor lighting- likely taken from one of the security cameras in the building. But the image didn’t require special zooming effects.

It was Jaehyun’s face, painted with fear, concern and the slightest of relief as he moved Taeyong down the flights of stairs, moments before they entered the black van. Taeyong remembers the hold on his shoulder, arm, everywhere felt abrasive at the time. Looking at it now, it was protective, if aggressively so.

Jaehyun was worried.  _ For him. _

How did he not realize? He should’ve felt it through the bond, should’ve seen it in Jaehyun’s body language, in, in anything-

“Wrong place at the wrong time,” sneers the man somewhere behind him. “No hard feelings.”

“He’s not going to come,” whispers Taeyong. “There’s no way he would.”

“Darling, you give yourself too little credit. Have some faith.” Thin lips curl into an ugly snarl. “Isn’t that right, Seu?”

Jaehyun steps out from the wrecked door, a gun trained at Taeyong’s captor while quickly glancing at the other two behind. Taeyong stares, completely dumbfounded. Jaehyun doesn’t look at him even once.

“괜찮아?”

Taeyong blinks. Hearing Jaehyun speak in Korean almost short-circuits his brain. Jaehyun’s eyes narrow a fraction, and Taeyong quickly replies, “괜찮아요.”

A quick snap has their attention to the captor. “Ah, ah, ah. Speaking in a different language is against the rules.” He levels a gun at Taeyong’s shoulder, tapping twice. It’s a flaunty, but harmless gesture. Still, the grip around Jaehyun’s gun tightens, his knuckles turning white.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” Jaehyun says, tone clipped. He glances at Taeyong once again, then back. A wave of comfort passes through their bond, followed by a calm that can only mean that Jaehyun’s planning something. Taeyong doesn’t look out the window or behind Jaehyun. He tries not to hold his breath.

“Frankie Chapel.”

Jaehyun scoffs. “Building a religion? How’s that doing for you?”

The man is about to answer before Jaehyun moves, quick as lightning. Taeyong has just enough time to brace himself before Jaehyun throws a dagger to the right of Chapel’s thick neck, hitting the carotid artery with dead accuracy. The ensuing bloodworks is almost theatrical, if a little gory. Then Jaehyun squeezes a bullet to a shoulder on each of the sidekicks, disarming them as they groan in pain before kicking their weapons away.

Screaming ensues somewhere in the building. The residents disgruntled at the amount of violence in one day. Jaehyun grits his teeth.

“You guys can do better than this guy,” He pats a leather gloved hand against the cheek of a goonie. The man whimpers and curls into himself. Jaehyun doesn’t spare them another second before he reaches Taeyong, quickly slashing the twist ties to break his wrists and ankles free.

“Can you walk? Jun is downstairs.”

Taeyong stumbles before he stands, but not before he hears a few shots ring outside the door. The sound echoes through his ears and fear strikes through his body.

“Shit.”

Taeyong’s heart throbs, making it a little hard to breathe but he manages to gather himself, acting brave. He sweeps the dagger from where it was lodged tightly into the hardwood floor, warm and slick with blood. “Let’s go.”

Jaehyun nods tightly. He takes the front, his gun tucked close to his body, another hand on the hilt of a dagger.

They rush down the stairs when a glint flashes in the corner of Taeyong’s eyes. His body moves before he thinks, and feels the impact of the bullet in his left shoulder before he hears the bang. Numbness blooms from the injury, sharp and immediate. It’s strange, unsettling. Then Taeyong hears a metallic sound unsheath and whiz past his ear before he hits the ground. A second bullet flies out, stray and untrained, into the wall. A man's guttural moans echo in the stairwell.

"Taeyong!"

Taeyong wants to say he is fine, but then a sharp stinging pain creeps into the muffled white noise after the gunshot, and he feels himself staggering backwards. The gunshot wound feels like it's on fire, bruning him from the bullet out. He can smell the blood pouring out of him, but he doesn’t look to check.  _ This much blood must smell. The bullet didn’t hit an artery, did it? _

His limbs feel weak, drained, and he teeters backwards.

A pair of hands guide him to the ground. Then one presses hard on the wound and he screams. Jaehyun says something but Taeyong can’t make out the words. The pain pierces through the thick fog of emotions in his mind.  _ Wait- fog? _ There’s something blocking- something warm and white and gold behind his eyelids when he squeezes his eyes shut.  _ Breathe. Just breathe. _

The warm white gold. He knows this feeling. He trusts this person.

_ You’ll be okay. You’re not going to die. You’re not going to die. You will not die here Lee Taeyong do you hear me- _

“You will not die here Lee Taeyong do you hear me. You. Can't. Fucking. Die.”

Renjun rushes to Jaehyun's side, eyes wide as he takes in the injury. His eyes soften, a crack forming through his normally impassive face. “Jaehyun, he...”

Jaehyun pulls Taeyong into his arms and lifts him with some difficulty. Renjun notes his shaking hands and says nothing. "He needs medical attention. We gotta go."

"Where? We don’t know anyone here.”

“I’ll call in a favour.” Jaehyun shakes his head, walking to Jisung’s awaiting van. “Find the fuckers who did this. The ones back there couldn’t have been all of it. Turn the rat’s nest inside out. I want to see black.”

“But. But you said you were done-”

“ _ I don’t care. Find them _ .”

With a sigh, Renjun nods. Jaehyun gently rests Taeyong on the backseat before climbing to the front. His eyes are sharp, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Jisung speeds off, but even his hands are shaking. “Boss. Where?”

“Brooklyn.”

Jisung steps on the gas. Jaehyun keeps his hands as steady as he can, applying constant pressure on the wound and praying to all the Gods that he’s never believed in for Taeyong’s safety. In fifteen minutes (thanks to Jisung’s deathly effective driving) they pull into an unassuming driveway of a neighbourhood clinic. There is a man in white with a pale, worried face waiting in the front. When he sees the van, he quickly gestures for them to go to the back.

Jaehyun wastes no time to lift Taeyong, who had passed out the moment he got in the car, into the awaiting operation bed. He meets the doctor’s eyes and nods. “Sorry to have to call you like this, Minhyuk-hyung.”

Lee Minhyuk, tall with kind eyes and a tired smile, shakes his head. “I’ll take it from here.”

Minhyuk rolls the bed into the surgery room and the doors close in front of Jaehyun’s nose. The last thing he sees is Taeyong’s hand hanging limply from the edge. The feeling in his chest tightens, weighing over his heart like a blade.

Jaehyun doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he finds himself zoning in when quiet clicks echo from the back door. He doesn’t need to look to see Renjun settling beside him, watching him with concerned eyes. Renjun says nothing, but he reaches to pat a warm, steady hand on Jaehyun’s tight, hunched shoulder.

Jaehyun lets out a long sigh and looks down at his hands.

“You should clean that,” suggests Renjun.

“I don’t understand,” Jaehyun says quietly, a distraught waver to his voice. “Why him?” Renjun says nothing. “The apartment. The shooting. This, this God damn mother fucking hostage situation. Why him? Why is he always just  _ here _ ?"

“He seemed to enjoy your attention,” notes Renjun with a soft quirk of lips.

Jaehyun begins to protest loudly, but stops when he catches Renjun’s teasing look. He leans back against the wall, letting his shoulders droop. “So?”

Renjun breaks into a smile, bright and jovial despite the dreary backdrop. “It’s being taken care of. I almost felt bad asking Jaemin and Jeno to go back into the field. But they agreed quite readily, like they were expecting it.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, smiling tiredly. “Old habits die hard.”

“Jisung has an entire life ahead of him. He’s the youngest of us but he’s completely adapted. He didn’t think twice before jumping on this van, tearing down streets to make sure you are okay.”

Jaehyun sighs, almost carding his hands through his hair before remembering the state they’re in. He stills his hands. “What are you trying to get at?”

“We knew who you were. We know who you are. We haven’t left you, because we trust you. You weren’t different when you came back from Pai, but you’re not the same person who went. We all saw that. That’s why none of us were surprised when you took a different turn, going legal.” Jaehyun’s heart falters, a strange protest at his throat, but he’s not sure what he’s protesting against. “You’re legally running a business here. As long as you pay and fill in the paperwork, you don’t need to make this call, seeing this doctor.”

“But Taeyong...”

“An unlucky traveller who was caught at the wrong place at the wrong time.” Renjun shrugs. “As far as records go, we were never acquainted. There’s no need for secrecy.”

Jaehyun sighs, shoulders drooping again. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I have trust issues? I don’t know what to do except putting one foot in front of the other?”

Renjun shakes his head, then he glances at the clinic doors. “Taeyong never worked with you, never spent a day around you and hardly recognized you when you first met. Yet something made him come here. What could that be?”

“I don’t know. I’m not him, I don’t know how he thinks!”

“Humour me.”

Jaehyun remembers his last conversation with Taeyong, the heavy emotions that vibrated from Taeyong’s core to his. “Guilt? Wanting to tie up loose ends? He’s a cop. He probably has an obsessive nature to close cases.”

Renjun snorts. “Probably true, but that’s not what I’m getting at.” Jaehyun makes an impatient sound, so Renjun continues. “We all had bets that you were going to kill him when this was all over. But that didn’t happen. Even when you were cornered by the other dragons, you could’ve taken them down. But they resumed their jobs after going back to Hong Kong.” Renjun notices Jaehyun’s disbelieving expression and adds, “It wasn’t that hard to find out. This is what you pay me to do.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “Even you have to agree this is kind of going above and beyond.”

Renjun shrugs casually. “Like you, I wouldn’t send my men out without knowing what we’re dealing with.”

Jaehyun thinks of Jeno and Jaemin and spares a half-hearted smile. “Ah.”

“My point is, there are people who know you and care for you in spite of, and for the reasons that make you who you are.” Renjun puts a hand up, stopping Jaehyun’s words. “There doesn’t need to be an explanation.”

“Except for the convenient fact that we’re fated,” says Jaehyun sarcastically.

“I’m not saying that being bonded doesn’t affect how he feels about you. But I don’t think the bond was what compelled him halfway across the world and into a building that was being shot at. People do unexplainable things when the people they care about are in danger.”

“You can’t blame me for finding that very hard to believe.”

Renjun sighs, like his patience is running thin. He stands to his feet and crosses his arms, pinning Jaehyun with an odd look. Jaehyun almost feels like a petulant child, being scolded by a teacher.

“Fine. Let me put it another way. He took an unpaid, indefinite leave to come here. He went straight to  _ Seasons _ when he landed. He camped in the diner across the street for so long that his presence amassed a small following. I wasn’t tipped off by the waiter, but by the squealing girls that flocked across the street after visiting our shop. He didn’t do that for me. He sure as hell didn’t do that for Jeno or Jaemin’s face on the posters. Who did he do that for?”

Jaehyun falls silent.

“When he found out your apartment was being shot at, he ran up the stairs, conveniently forgetting all police training and the fact that he’s not even armed. Who did he do that for?”

Jaehyun ducks his head, hands balling into tight fists.

“When he stepped in front of the bullet, who did he do that f-”

“For me. I know. I know, god damnit!” Jaehyun slams his fist in a chair, the metal frame rattles loudly in the waiting room.

“Then you must know, whatever the reason is, he is here for you. He put his life before yours, the same way Jisung, Jeno, Jaemin and I would. We both know he’ll pull through. The shoulder is not a vital area, and he didn’t seem to be bleeding out. He’ll be okay. The ball is in your court now,” Renjun stands to his feet. “You have to figure out how you fit in this.” Without waiting for a reply, Renjun unkindly shoves Jaehyun to his feet. “Your hands are filthy. Wash them before he sees; doubt he’d appreciate seeing his body fluids on you. Not this kind, at any rate.”

“Jun!”

Renjun’s cackle can be heard echoing down the hall. It pulls the corners of Jaehyun’s mouth up, too.

Half an hour later, Minhyuk reemerges from the surgery room. He shoots Jaehyun a meaningful look, nodding stiffly. "He'll be fine."

Jaehyun lets out a shaking sign. "Thank you. I'm sorry for calling you like this.”

Minhyuk shakes his head a little sluggish, like he’s tired standing on his feet but still holding on. "You saved Jungmin. Consider it a favour returned.” The corners of Minhyuk’s eyes crinkle slightly, like he remembers the 16 year old child fighting for his life on the hospital bed all those years ago. Then, hesitation clouds over Minhyuk’s eyes. “He’s not from around, is he?”

“No, he isn’t.”

A muscle in Minhyuk’s jaw tightens, and he looks at a spot on the wall. “He’s lost some blood. He woke up as I applied the bandages. Will probably still be awake.” He follows Jaehyun’s gaze and nods at the doors. “I’ll write a prescription for him.” He excuses himself quietly.

Jaehyun stares at the doors and thinks of Renjun’s words.

_ ‘Now you have to figure out how you fit in this.’ _

He didn’t want to break the bond, and didn't want to lose Taeyong in the process. But he doesn’t want Taeyong to be close either, knowing the dangers his existence and proximity would gain. And as much as he tries, he can’t keep Taeyong away, not unless he gives Taeyong no reason to reach out anymore.

Taeyong apologized. He said his piece. Their conversation in the car should’ve been the end.

_ ‘Now you have to figure out how you fit in this.’ _

Will he have a place to fit, after everything?

Though his heart is heavy with trepidation, Jaehyun takes a deep breath to calm his nerves then pushes the door open.

He stands by the doorway, listening as the machines beep around Taeyong. Under the harsh fluorescent lighting, Taeyong looks pallid and frail, his eyes squeezed shut like sleeping in pain. Jaehyun’s heart clenches a little harder. He starts to turn around when Taeyong’s eyes open, staring right at him.

For a moment, neither speak. Jaehyun feels the muffled struggle for clarity in their bond, and feels himself giving into the hands that reach out. He’s here. He’s here for Taeyong.

“I’m sorry for everything,” Jaehyun says at the same time Taeyong mutters, “Thank god you’re okay.”

They stop in the middle of their sentences, eyeing the other warily. Then Taeyong nods shallowly, so Jaehyun takes a breath and asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Not bad, considering.” Taeyong’s uninjured hand points at his injured shoulder. “I’ll be okay. Sorry for causing you trouble again.”

"You weren’t. I,” a breath, “I should be the one apologizing. Those men weren't looking for you."

Taeyong looks at Jaehyun, then an unreadable glint enters his eyes. “Acknowledging the problem is the first step.”

Jaehyun blinks, incredulous. That was not what he expected at all. “Excuse me? You were the one who ran into a building that's being shot at when  _ you didn’t have to be involved. _ ”

Taeyong scoffs. “And you came running into a trap. How’s that for an ex-faction leader?” He raises an eyebrow, edging Jaehyun’s patience. Something nasty threatens to spill but Jaehyun bites it down. Instead he takes a deep breath and says:

“That makes us two idiots then.”

_ We’re the same, aren’t we? _

Taeyong grows silent, so Jaehyun continues, “I knew what I was getting into. The person on this bed should’ve been me.”

Taeyong’s eyes widen as he reels back. “That’s not what-”

“-but even when I pushed you away I couldn’t stop you from coming back-”

“I just moved on my own-”

“And I can’t help but think that it’s the bond fucking with our heads. I’ve tried everything but I can’t block you out. I feel you, even hints, everything, everywhere.” Their gazes meet, dark and heavy. “Why? Why were you here after everything?”

A contemplative silence falls between them.

“It’s the same for me, you know,” admits Taeyong quietly, meeting Jaehyun’s gaze. “I… couldn’t have stayed away if I tried, even if there was no bond. There’s more to us than this. You know this too.”

Jaehyun draws a shaky breath. “How?”

“Because you care about me.”

Taeyong’s words feel like an invisible force, pushing Jaehyun to the wall. The bluntness of Taeyong’s words is like flicking a light switch; everything suddenly has colour, shade, perspective. He does care. He cares a lot. He struggles for words for a moment, looking lost, before the corners of his lips quirk up in their own accord. “Yeah, I do.”

A pause.

“...are you...”

“Must be the anesthetics.”

“...”

Taeyong ducks his head, taking a moment. When he draws back, his cheeks and nose are red. “I’m fine. Perfectly fine. What was I saying?” Jaehyun opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish. A surge of warmth and security and  _ mustprotectatallcosts _ escapes into the bond. “Um. Uh. Wow, what?”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen when he realizes. But instead of pulling back, he takes a step towards Taeyong. His shoulders drop a little, his body opening up like a shy, blooming flower. He feels lighter, though his expression remains neutral. “I’m not going to explain it if you’re too dense to get it.”

Taeyong smiles, then laughs- hearty and tilting his head back until his shoulder reminds him that he shouldn’t be moving too much. He winces despite himself. Jaehyun is by his side in a second, easing him back against the pillow as he eyes at the bandages.

A flutter of something thrums against Taeyong’s chest. He captures Jaehyun’s wrist in a loose grip. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm.”

“You haven’t changed your mind about breaking the bond, right?”

“...no, I haven’t. Have you?”

“Of course not! I took a bullet for this.”

Jaehyun facepalms. “That’s not something you should flaunt.”

“Lived to tell the tale, so I’m telling it however I want.” A crooked grin. “Plus, I knew you couldn’t resist this nice piece of ass.”

Jaehyun, to his credit, dutifully gives Taeyong a once over before he says, “Where?”

“You dick!-oww.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, taking back his wrist. “Stop pretending. You didn’t even move your shoulder.”

Taeyong grumbles about perceptive bastards before wiggling into a more comfortable position against the metal rails of the operation bed. “For the record, I still hate that you’re in my head. You shouldn’t be able to feel my feelings-”

“The sentiment is mutual.”

They look at each other for a moment, before Taeyong’s eyelids slide a little. He blinks quickly, then smiles sheepishly. “Will I be staying here tonight? And the cost of this-”

Jaehyun raises a hand to stop Taeyong’s ramblings. “It’s taken care of. You will stay with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re in no condition to go anywhere or do anything on your own. I’ll pick up your meds before we go.”

“Are you sure about this?”

Jaehyun doesn’t immediately answer, and Taeyong looks away, knowing that there’s more to his question than what he asked. They’ve found some kind of truce, something that they’ve yet to define, but Jaehyun’s already inviting Taeyong to his home- well, one home of many, but a home nonetheless.

“If we only have one shot at this, I’d rather have you in my life, and vice versa, than not.” Jaehyun looks at Taeyong’s hands that lie in his lap. “I don’t know what it means, but we can talk about it when you’re less delirious.”

Taeyong looks down at his hands again. “Thank you.”

The crown of Taeyong’s head reflects a soft light, almost like a halo, and Jaehyun’s heart surges again.

“Let’s get out of here. We can talk when we go home.”


	24. 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit content. If you don't feel comfortable reading it, please click the back button and message me on [my cc](https://curiouscat.me/_nkei_) for a T-rated version.
> 
> The torture is coming to an end ;) Hope you enjoy this update!

By the time Jisung drops Jaehyun off, Taeyong’s head is fully rested on Jaehyun’s shoulder, and a soft but deep breathing escapes from the backseat that has probably seen better days. Somewhere in between, Jisung hops off to pick up the medication because Jaehyun doesn’t want to move.

Renjun shoots him a look that very much says _Behave yourself_ as he helps move Taeyong out of the car. It’s almost five in the morning and so, as any boss would, Jaehyun tells Jisung to take the day off, closing the café for the day. He’s met with predictable protests, but he trusts Jisung to make the right call.

Meanwhile, he lugs the deadweight of Taeyong's body to his penthouse apartment. Lithe as Taeyong may seem, the man is all bone and lean muscle. (Also, Jaehyun notes quietly to himself, Taeyong’s glutes need some work before he boasts about it again.) Still, Jaehyun keeps his hands and thoughts to platonic zones as he nods at the building concierge, riding up to his floor, wiggling his keys into the keyhole and transferring Taeyong to his bed.

Taeyong briefly jostles awake when Jaehyun lays him down, eyes half-lidded and unfocused.

"Where are you going?"

Jaehyun glances down at Taeyong’s bandaged shoulder, and something in his chest tightens. "Getting a glass of water. Stay awake."

To his credit, Taeyong tries really hard. But the room is dark and cozy, the bed is soft like clouds and a dream to sleep on, so he dozes off by the time Jaehyun comes back with the medication and water.

"Don’t force me to dump water on you to wake you."

No response.

“Taeyong.”

Nothing.

Jaehyun huffs lightly, then puts a finger under Taeyong's nose. Five seconds later, Taeyong giggles.

"Still alive then," Jaehyun says in a soft, low voice. "Take the pills before you pass out again.”

Only Taeyong is still delirious, and responds by making soft whiny noises at Jaehyun's direction. Pink and coral speckles across their bond. It’s as annoying as it is cute. Jaehyun struggles to keep his emotions at bay, especially when he remembers how easy it is for Taeyong to feel how he feels. Taeyong eventually dissolves into a tired smile, to which Jaehyun takes as a sign to feed him the pills. They go down without a problem, and Taeyong snuggles back into the cozy covers that smell like smoke, leather and white flowers.

"I will be back in a few hours for your next round of antibiotics."

Taeyong makes a garbled sound, like a cross between a sniffle and 'thanks, mom'. Jaehyun stops himself from giving Taeyong’s backside a smack.

Taeyong stays in bed the next day. There’s a flush and a thin layer of sweat covering the skin of his entire body. Jaehyun doesn’t try to look, but it’s hard not to when he’s changing Taeyong out of his bloodied and sweat-soaked pants. His shirt was gone before they arrived at the surgery room. The fever is worrying, and Jaehyun’s dealt with enough injuries to know that Taeyong might be fighting off an infection, so he keeps the glass of water by Taeyong’s bedside full and chilled, waking Taeyong up every eight hours to take the antibiotics, and making sure Taeyong is not in too much pain as his body fights off the infection.

It isn’t a lot of work, not for Jaehyun who is used to juggling several trains of thought at once. In fact, it’s the lack of motion, productivity that has his mind wandering, borderline overdrive, about Taeyong and what will happen now.

Some time later, Jisung drops off a few bags of groceries and a dubious look when Jaehyun meets him at the door. Jaehyun raises an eyebrow in question. Jisung chuckles with a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Will this become a fire hazard?”

“Ye of little faith. My cooking is delicious.” Jaehyun smirks. “Wanna try some?”

Jisung backpedals quickly. He’s played one too many pranks on Jaehyun in the past, and would rather not risk ‘accidentally’ getting food poison, thank you very much.

With that, Jaehyun spends the rest of the day cooking, reading, and thinking.

Come the second day, Taeyong shoots up from the bed, almost falling on his face as he scrambles to the toilet. (He will protest in defense that the room was dark and unfamiliar, and he is still feeling the effects of the anesthetic, but Jaehyun knows it’s because he hasn’t taken a piss in almost two days, which is very alarming.) When Taeyong reemerges, he skips back to bed, chasing the warm spots he left behind.

Ahh. He’s never slept on a bed more comfortable and luxurious in his life. It’s a wonderful hospital bed considering he was shot in the shoulder… Taeyong blinks. His surroundings slowly register as he sits up again.

Not a hospital. Unless there exists a hospital bedroom that spells opulence in the city of New York. There are no machinery or charts in the room, and the bed isn’t a standard stuffy hospital bed. Definitely not a hospital.

Taeyong looks around, taking in the downplayed luxury. There is a distinctive minimalistic style, king-sized bed with a scandanavian frame, smooth black sheets, blanket and comforter, more pillows than Taeyong cares to count, a walk in closet, a long mirror in the corner, and a foldable partition on the side. The colours are cool slate, cream, marble, and gold accents framing and connecting the pieces. Taeyong rolls his eyes at the tiger painting on the cream paper of the partition. If he ever had a doubt it was Jaehyun’s room, the partition holds all the proof he needs. He turns to the rest of the room.

There is a wide breadth of windows that are tinted black. One-way windows, Taeyong realizes, dumbfounded. He stares for a while, wondering how much it must’ve cost. All of his thoughts roll to a halt when he comes face to face with the devil himself.

(Jaehyun must’ve heard him and came to check on him.)

Except Jaehyun doesn’t look quite like a devil, wearing black pyjama bottoms with a well-loved black t-shirt, if the rumpled collar is anything to go by. It looks baggy on him, and makes Taeyong wonder if it’s been with Jaehyun for so long that he’s grown out of it, or if it used to belong to someone else. Taeyong quickly snuffs the thoughts to the back of his head, but a frown forms on Jaehyun’s forehead nonetheless.

Then Taeyong notices the tray Jaehyun’s holding on to.

It’s lidded but the aroma smells amazing, whatever it is.

“What’s that?”

“Lunch, if you want.”

Taeyong immediately perks up. “Oh my God yes. Yes please. I’m so hungry I can eat my own arm.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “Please don’t. The surgeon worked hard to save your arm.” he says dryly, moving to set the tray in front of Taeyong, directly on the bed. Taeyong’s head screeches, imagining food falling on this beautiful bed and ruining its cleanliness, aesthetics. His hands shoot out to stop Jaehyun. “Wait hold on! Hold on!”

The frown on Jaehyun’s face deepens. “What?”

“I, um.” Taeyong winces, nervously gesturing at the bed like that explains everything. It takes Jaehyun a minute to understand. He sighs, gesturing to the door. “This way.”

The kitchen (and the rest of Jaehyun’s apartment) is as impressive, luxurious and understated. One-sided windows stretch across tall ceilings along the wall, that if it wasn’t for the equally tall, sleek blinds the apartment would be shrouded in white on a sunny day like this. The interior carries slate grey and off-white, with notes of colour, like centre pieces, accent chairs, and a painting of a disfigured man in bright colours staring back at Taeyong. Taeyong squints at the daring, calculated brush strokes.

“Is that a real Francis Bacon?”

Jaehyun doesn’t respond. Instead he sets the tray down on a long marble table and gives Taeyong an expectant look. “Eat before it gets cold.”

Taeyong spares one more wary glance around him before settling on one of the chairs. He immediately melts, lavishing the plush and comfort that his ass experiences. He opens the lid. It’s congee with sliced fish, chicken, and preserved eggs, served in a white bowl with delicate blue designs. A Hong Kong local delicacy and one of Taeyong’s favourite comfort foods. He quickly digs in.

_Gods above._

“I had my doubts about the Chinese food in New York, but damn, this tastes like home.”

“I made that.”

Taeyong nearly spits out the congee, and Jaehyun wordlessly offers water. When Taeyong’s coughing stops, he stares at Jaehyun, then back at the bowl of congee.

Jaehyun frowns. “What?”

Taeyong takes a moment to find his tongue. “Didn’t peg you as the cooking, care-giving type.”

Jaehyun shrugs, settling on a chair. “It wasn't that difficult.”

“Huh. Mom Jaehyun- there’s a nice ring to it.” Taeyong breaks into an easy laugh at Jaehyun’s glare, then promptly chokes on an antibiotic pill that Jaehyun flicks with dead accuracy into his throat.

“How are you feeling?”

The choking subsides eventually, but not before Taeyong gives Jaehyun another death glare. “More appreciative of life when I’m not choking. How’s life without crime?”

“More aggravating, but that has less to do with the lack of crime and more to do with a soulmate.”

Taeyong sniffles as he wipes his tears in a very dramatic way. “At least this soulmate doesn’t try to take your life at every turn.”

Jaehyun shrugs. “My life is in as much danger as it ever was. You don’t walk out of crime scott-free when you play the game the way I played.”

“That’s not something to boast about, jackass. And wipe that smugness off your face.”

“You’re not even looking.”

Taeyong turns to stick his tongue out at Jaehyun. “Didn’t need to.”

As his words settle, they drift into a weird silence, caught up in their own thoughts.

“The bond isn’t fucking with my judgment, just to be clear,” says Taeyong at the same time Jaehyun says with finality, “We’ll need to learn to control it.”

Taeyong frowns. “How? It’s not like there are books about this knowledge lying around.” Jaehyun sends a look his way, rousing his suspicions. “We’re not going back to Thailand to train with Phuong.”

Jaehyun shrugs, crossing his arms. “We can’t be the only soulmates who are trying to make it work. Someone must know.”

“Our situation isn’t exactly common.” Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Need I remind you that neither of us were on board with this whole soulmate thing at the beginning.”

“I was always down for _some_ things. If memory serves me correctly, you were dodging and hesitating left and right until, well, until you didn’t.” Taeyong turns red at Jaehyun’s growing smirk. “You liked me, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“You had hearts in your eyes when you looked at me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You had the hots for me.”

“... well.”

Taeyong glowers as Jaehyun cackles, which makes Taeyong harrumph and cover his face with his hands. He mumbles through them. “If there’s a point, get to it.”

“It’s nothing really. Just wanted to flatter myself a bit.”

“Please. If your ego gets any bigger and you'll float into space, egotistical jackass.”

“Hah! Am I not an evil, manipulative mass-murderer now?”

“Those terms are not mutually exclusive!” Then, Taeyong says in a quieter voice, “But I’d rather not refer you to something you’re working to improve from.”

Jaehyun watches Taeyong for a moment before he looks away. A tense air fills the space between them. “Took you long enough to realize.”

Taeyong bites back a scathing remark about how it takes time to change an impression or opinion. Instead, he finishes the rest of his breakfast without another word, making a lot of happy food sounds that borderline pornographic. Jaehyun’s expression changes from neutral to very disgusted, and Taeyong places a small ‘1’ beside his name in his mental scoreboard of annoying Jaehyun. Taeyong cleans up after himself.

“But seriously, how’s life without crime?”

Jaehyun studies Taeyong’s face for any cynicism before shrugging stiffly. “Tiring, busy. There’s always something new to look into, something I’ve yet to consider. I learned a lot- on how to run a business, then about skincare products, what people want, and what needs aren’t being met. I know a bit about language and marketing, how to use words to hit a certain target audience. I’ve learned basic economics and accounting, but left most of that to Jun.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Jaehyun’s eyes narrow at Taeyong’s tone. “There’s nothing between Jun and I. He’s in a rather happy entanglement with others.” It earns a raised look of surprise from Taeyong. “They’ve been covering each other’s backs for as long as the faction was around; outgrew it, even.”

The look of shock doesn’t go away, but Taeyong doesn’t make a move to speak, and their bond isn't quite as agitated, so Jaehyun continues, “I also opened a cafe; it was on my bucket list. Hit that goal post sooner than I expected.”

That gains Taeyong’s attention. “What’s the specialty on your menu?”

“Specialty?”

“You know, the thing that sets your cafe apart from others.”

“We’re the only ones that make sweet potato latte on this half of the world, if that’s special enough for you.”

“Sweet potato? Sounds strange.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Taeyong grins. “Make it for me.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “No.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“Was breakfast not enough?”

“It should be. I usually don't eat much for breakfast." Taeyong frowns at the clean bowl in front of him, ignoring Jaehyun’s disbelieving scoff. "Maybe surviving a gunshot makes you extra hungry.”

“Or it might have to do with the fact that you were burning a high fever and bedridden for an entire day.” Jaehyun walks to the stovetop. “Seconds?”

Taeyong perks up. “Hell yeah!”

“There could be poison in here," Jaehyun says, setting the bowl down after filling it to the brim again.

Taeyong doesn’t hesitate before shoving a spoonful into his mouth. “I doubt you’d save my life multiple times just to poison me now.”

Jaehyun wrinkles his nose, sitting in front of Taeyong again, watching spoon after spoon of congee disappear between Taeyong’s lips. “I could change my mind after realizing how many more times I’d have to save your ass. What happened to your nine dragons training? Police training? Any kind of training?”

Taeyong ducks his head and mumbles something.

“What?”

Taeyong repeats himself.

“Say that again, I couldn’t quite catch it.”

“I said I was distracted because I was thinking about you, and you heard me the first time, asshole.” Taeyong says with a raised voice, catching Jaehyun’s smug grin and feels his cheeks grow warmer. “I want to punch you. Can I punch you?”

“After eating the food I made for you? I’m hurt.”

“Maybe it tastes so bad that punching the cook is the only acceptable response.”

Then, to Taeyong's horror, Jaehyun mimics the sex sounds he made just moments ago. Taeyong beans a spoon at Jaehyun’s head, who catches it in the air and flashes Taeyong a wide grin that is all teeth, so Taeyong does the first thing that comes to mind.

He’s on Jaehyun before they crash to the ground. Jaehyun takes a second too long to react, giving Taeyong the chance to lock Jaehyun’s thighs between his, until he remembers his left shoulder and arm are bound, which means he’s fighting handicapped and can get his ass whooped if Jaehyun actually returns blows.

But Jaehyun does nothing of that sort. He just stares up at Taeyong with steady, open eyes. It unnerves Taeyong more than any punch, jab, or kick.

“I didn’t mean this kind of training,” Jaehyun says finally, low and suggestive. To emphasize his point, his eyes rake down and up Taeyong’s body.

Taeyong has the decency to look embarrassed. “W-wel, you shouldn’t challenge me like that! If you were anyone else I would still be able to hold a fight despite, um, this.” He gestures awkwardly to his shoulder.

Jaehyun doesn’t look convinced, but he deigns to make a comment. Instead, his eyes land on the white bandages on Taeyong’s shoulder and the corners of his mouth tug down. Without warning, he gently traces a finger against the rough fabric, just above the gunshot wound. Concern echoes through their bond, and a small frown etches into his forehead.

Taeyong’s eyes widen in surprise, because this is Jaehyun slowly, carefully _showing_ how he feels. It’s no longer just the hints of emotions Taeyong gleans from their bond. This realization comes with mixed feelings of shock, comfort and something that warms his stomach. If Jaehyun opens up like this, Taeyong can do the same.

“There’s only a dull ache when I move around,” he shares before adding, “bastard.”

Jaehyun snorts, but his finger doesn’t stop tracing idle lines across the bandages. “Which begs the question of why you threw yourself across the table in the first place.”

“I said I was going to punch you.”

“All bark and no bite.”

Taeyong moves before he thinks, pulling Jaehyun’s hand from his arm to his lips, sliding teeth against the rough pads of Jaehyun’s fingers. Jaehyun doesn’t move, he just watches with bated breath. Taeyong stares back.

Finally, Jaehyun asks, “What are you doing?”

“When you said we have one shot at this, you’re wrong. This is our third.”

Jaehyun opens his mouth, then closes it as he contemplates Taeyong’s words. Their breaths come out in shallow huffs, and warmth spreads from their points of contact. Jaehyun shifts his hand to cup Taeyong’s cheek, brushing his thumb against the corner of Taeyong’s lips where a small, light mole is

“But I don’t think we’ll ever run out of chances,” Taeyong continues, eyes wide like he’s coming to the same realization that echoes in Jaehyun’s eyes, who finishes his sentence, “because we’re fated to each other.”

Taeyong groans, burying his face in his one available hand to hide his burning cheeks. “I can’t believe you actually said it out loud!”

“It was on the tip of your tongue too!”

“Yes, but I felt you thinking it!”

Jaehyun pins Taeyong with a look. “Let’s not delude ourselves to ignoring this again. Not to mention, you’re still sitting on my lap.” Taeyong straightens immediately, but before he can make a retreat back to the other side of the table Jaehyun holds him in place. “I didn’t mean that to be a bad thing. Stop being so jumpy.”

The softness in Jaehyun’s voice soothes Taeyong’s nerves. Taeyong takes a deep breath, and then another, before resting his weight on Jaehyun’s legs, watching him with careful eyes. Jaehyun’s gaze lowers from his cheeks, nose, and mouth, then back up.

Taeyong feels it through their bond before Jaehyun even moves. He leans into Jaehyun’s palm, guiding him down to pink lips. Heat bursts from his core, coursing through his veins before ratchets into gold, and white.

It seems impossible, but everything feels to explode into blinding light, enveloping his entire body as Taeyong leans in for more. He presses insistently, moving against Jaehyun as he chases the feeling of _finally_ and _fulfilled_ and _yes, this is it. This was what I’ve always wanted.I want more I need more please-_

Only to feel the same rush of emotions resonating back to him, like the arms that wrap around his middle pulling him closer, warmth pressing along his body and making his cheeks burn to his ears, down his spine to his abdomen, and lower still. At some point his tongue pushes past Jaehyun’s lips, twirling and tasting sweet nectar as a surge of low humming pleasure rushes into his abdomen. Sweet heat builds between them like a drug that muffles reality.

It’s like the first time they kissed, but also so much more. The yearning cut short years ago rekindles into a fire that consumes them from their cores to the tips of their toes. Years. They’ve wasted years, refusing to admit to themselves and each other, that it’s always been all or nothing.

But here, in this moment where they have everything they want in their arms, the noise fizzles into silence only to be filled with their pounding hearts that swell with monumental, immeasurable content. It almost feels like breaking down to molecules only to be restructured, built back up together. Because accepting each other and being together is more than enough.

When Taeyong pulls back for a much needed breath, he slowly opens his eyes to see unshed tears in the corners of Jaehyun’s eyes that brim with so much warmth Taeyong feels it vibrating to his core. It isn’t until Jaehyun gently cups his cheek and brushes wetness across his cheek with a thumb, that Taeyong realizes he’s in a similar state.

His hand that clutches onto Jaehyun’s soft tee loosens. The roaring of emotions in his ears fade to the soft breathing in the small distance between their faces.

Inside, their fully complete and sealed bond hums with _happiness_.

“Wow.”

It takes a moment for Taeyong to realize Jaehyun was the one who said it. But it breaks the moment, and he tucks into himself as he laughs and laughs. In between laughter, he manages to say, “Did we just have a fairytale moment?”

It earns a light smack on his butt from Jaehyun, whose bright eyes are the only things that betray his otherwise neutral expression. A deep, sweet fondness bubbles inside Taeyong again as he captures Jaehyun’s slowly curling lips.

Before they get too far, Jaehyun pulls back. “Wait-”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”

“You were just _shot_. Your shoulder...”

Taeyong tugs Jaehyun close with his only available hand, clutching the other man close as he claims Jaehyun’s lips, biting and licking and tasting the sweetness of his soulmate. _Soulmate._ Their bond thrums in electric blue and white and gold.

“I know you want me. I can handle it.” Taeyong hears a whimper and his eyes crack open. Liquid gold stare back. The corners of Taeyong’s lips quirk up as he brushes a thumb against Jaehyun’s bottom lip, then cupping his cheek. “You haven’t hurt me yet. I promise I won’t hurt you either.”

“Taeyong,” whispers Jaehyun, a warning and plea in one breath.

“Trust me.”

In uncoordinated motions, Taeyong pushes Jaehyun on the sofa before tugging off the sweatpants that have no right to hug Jaehyun’s defined hips and shapely legs the way it does. Jaehyun’s erection springs into the air, to Taeyong’s surprise.

“Not a fan of underwear?”

“I’m a boss working from home.” The grin Jaehyun flashes is cocky and hazy with want. “Underwear is my last concern.”

Taeyong almost rolls his eyes, feeling a rush of heat as he stares at Jaehyun’s erection like he’s not sure what to do, so Jaehyun tenses a specific set of muscles, making his cock bounce and hilariously hitting Taeyong’s eye. Taeyong screeches in three different languages, wiping a dollop of precum from his cheek and Jaehyun _laughs_.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet,” he repeats teasingly.

Taeyong’s only response is taking the engorged, spongy head of Jaehyun’s erection into his mouth. Jaehyun lets out a low moan, a hand reaching instinctively to thread through Taeyong’s hair before gripping at the base. Taeyong frowns at how it fills his mouth, unfamiliar with the feeling. Then he swirls his tongue against the tip experimentally. Jaehyun gasps, hips stuttering like he’s being electrocuted, but his hand is steady and warm against Taeyong’s nape. Taeyong takes it as a good sign and continues.

He bobs his head slightly at first, to get the hang of the feeling. But with each plunge he goes a little deeper, taking more of Jaehyun’s long shaft into his mouth, until a minute later, it hits the bottom of his throat. He whines, breathing through his nose with difficulty, and pushes against the intrusion to sink more of Jaehyun’s member inside him. Spit leaks from the corners of his mouth, making a mess on the spotless bed sheets but Taeyong doesn’t care. He only wants Jaehyun inside him, in any way possible.

“Just like that. Nice and easy,” Jaehyun urges softly, spreading his legs a little wider to give Taeyong more space. “Take it all.”

Taeyong, preening at the compliment, continues with fervor, bouncing his head up and down as he sets a tempo. The back of his throat gets battered and stretched, but there’s only a little more before his nose nuzzles against Jaehyun’s maintained, hairy base. Jaehyun feels his frustration through their bond and helps by softly thrusting into Taeyong’s wet and hot mouth. It has nothing to do with how good Taeyong’s mouth feels on him, how the sensations buzz through his veins, warming his abdomen, or how he’s fighting the orgasm. (He’s also lying to himself.)

“Relax a little more. Open up for me, babe.” His grip at Taeyong’s nape tightens when he feels Taeyong following his lead. “Yes, just like that.”

Three more thrusts later, Jaehyun looks down and groans wantonly.

Taeyong’s lips have turned red, stretching around his erection obscenely as he swallows the full length of his erection. Taeyong’s nose is pressed against Jaehyun’s pelvis as he takes all of Jaehyun inside him, and Jaehyun can feel Taeyong’s throat strained and squeezing to accommodate Jaehyun’s length. The hazy, consuming pleasure sucks into his core that becomes hot and tight to bursting.

Jaehyun’s eyes flutter shut.

Taeyong knows what’s happening before Jaehyun utters a warning. He instinctively holds still as Jaehyun blasts the first shot of release directly down Taeyong’s throat. It takes Taeyong by surprise and he eases back slightly, in time to catch the second and third pumps on his tongue.

Heavens, but it tastes clean and sweet.

Taeyong gently rolls his tongue under Jaehyun’s erection, goading more out as Jaehyun’s hips flutter in and out of his mouth with unmeasured motions.

When Jaehyun comes down from his high, he collects Taeyong into his arms and kisses him thoroughly, deeply, lovingly that has Taeyong cradling Jaehyun’s jaws and curling his toes. A breathless moan escapes his mouth when Jaehyun pulls back slightly. His fingers thread through Taeyong’s hair, his other arm hugging him close. “Let me take care of you now.”

Taeyong nods with a heedy moan. Jaehyun’s arms circle loosely around Taeyong’s waist to steady him, then he makes quick work of the buttons of Taeyong’s borrowed shirt, until Taeyong holds his hand to stop him, a shy but playful grin playing at his lips.

“Keep it on.”

Jaehyun wants to protest- he’s already seen it all and wants to see it again, but bites it back. His hands resume their motions, moving lower to Taeyong’s borrowed trousers. “Fine, but it’s coming off next round.”

Jaehyun doesn’t give Taeyong the time to protest before kissing down Taeyong’s chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, leaving wet patches all the way to Taeyong’s growing erection. A hand reaches to palm Taeyong’s balls gently as he mouths the length of Taeyong’s member through the pants. Taeyong moans, twisting his body to urge Jaehyun’s hot mouth closer to his tip, where he wants to feel, but Jaehyun pins him down and makes a warning sound in the back of his throat. Taeyong whimpers.

“You fucking tease.”

Jaehyun looks up and their gazes lock in an intense, heated stare. “If you think I waited three years only to rush through this, you’re very, _very_ wrong.” A shiver runs down Taeyong's spine to his lower abdomen, last pooling around his core. “The next words out of your mouth would be you telling me how you like it, then for the rest of tonight I want you to only say my name.”

Their eyes meet and Jaehyun waits for Taeyong to give a shallow nod before ducking his head to whisper against the shell of Taeyong’s ear, “Good boy.”

He half expects Taeyong to stammer through his instructions and preferences, but Taeyong surprises him.

“I want you to work me up until I’m hard and close, then I want you to fuck me until the only thing I can say for the rest of the night is your name,” Taeyong demands, eyes glassy and dilated and pink. Jaehyun, with his breath caught in his throat, swallows thickly. “Afterwards I want you to stay inside me until you’re ready to fuck again and again.”

A smirk slowly spreads across Jaehyun’s lips. His hand strokes down the length of Taeyong’s body as his hooded eyes pin Taeyong with a dark look. “Being bonded has nothing to do with refraction periods. Think you can handle it?”

Taeyong reaches for Jaehyun’s hand, pressing a teasing, chaste kiss on the rough palm. “Try me, Jaehyunie.”

Jaehyun spares an apologetic glance at Taeyong’s shoulder, then secretly promises to himself that he’ll take care of it, the same way he’ll take care of Taeyong, as long as the other man lets him.

Taeyong’s hand finds its way to Jaehyun’s thick locks, brushing back dark tresses so he can watch. Jaehyun pushes the bottom of Taeyong’s shirt up with his nose, pressing wet kisses against the soft skin he finds, licking and sucking until red petals bloom where his mouth was. It’s strange, torturous and exquisite to feel the pleasure that he arouses and is in control of, resonating back through their bond. When he reaches Taeyong’s erection, he gently kisses just the tip.

Taeyong gasps and pants, wiggling for more contact. But instead of addressing the need, Jaehyun moves to Taeyong’s legs, sucking more wet, open-mouthed kisses on the smooth, unmarred skin. Not one lick of scar, unlike Jaehyun’s own body. Above, Taeyong’s cock pulses and strains and leaks profusely under this onslaught of pleasure.

“Please Jae. Please. I want.”

Jaehyun hums, but he doesn’t comply. He stretches over to get the lube and condom from the nightstand. Taeyong glances over and pauses.

“Can we… go bareback?”

Jaehyun blanks.

“I’m clean and I,” Taeyong pauses, looking for the right words. “I never did like the feeling of condom because it’s restrictive and kind of starchy and dries the lube too quickly and it’s been three years so if you’re clean-” _I just really want to feel you cum inside me, please._

Jaehyun shuts Taeyong up with a kiss, hot and heedy and whispers his against red, plump lips, “I am, and I will,” like a swear and promise in one.

Taeyong nods thickly, squeezing his eyes shut. Jaehyun watches with satisfaction as he works to open Taeyong, who slowly relaxes, pushing back against his intruding fingers until his softening cock hardens with slowly building pleasure again. Then Jaehyun teases his column with his other hand, gently palming his balls before tugging up to his tip again. Taeyong whines and gasps. “Stop taking your fucking time.”

“I can take more,” warns Jaehyun, conversationally. Which, of course, means he does the opposite. As soon as Taeyong’s hips roll back against his three fingers, Jaehyun smooths more lube on his cock before pressing forward. Then he promptly forgets to breathe. Taeyong feels hotslicktight _fuckingwonderful_ , squeezing and pulsing around him that Jaehyun has to pause his motions to reel back the building tension.

“Jesus fuck. You feel so fucking good,” grunts Jaehyun, moving his hips to a slow rhythm.

Only Taeyong has other ideas as he snaps his hips to meet Jaehyun’s downwards thrusts. “Please. More. I want more.”

Jaehyun groans loudly, gripping Taeyong’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, but otherwise lets the man fuck himself onto him. So Taeyong builds a tempo, going slowly to feel every time Jaehyun’s head pushes into him, widening and stretching his insides to accommodate Jaehyun’s girth. The heat from their point of connection intensifies the pleasure they feel.

Jaehyun curls against Taeyong’s body, resuming the position from three years ago except Taeyong is facing him and his eyes, the supposed windows to the soul, bares all for Jaehyun to take, dissect, devour. The trust and vulnerability shock, unravel and envelop Jaehyun from his inside out. He feels weakened and stronger at once, an unexplainable mix of conflicting thoughts and emotions, that are then disrupted, overwritten by the sheer pleasure that shoots through his body when Taeyong suddenly clamps down.

He responds by fucking harder and faster into Taeyong’s receptive body. A series of whines and pants escape from Taeyong’s lips. His eyes are glassy and wet around the corners, and a trail of saliva escapes the corner of his mouth. He looks like a true and well fucked mess. And he’s wearing Jaehyun’s shirt. A possessive feeling curls inside Jaehyun’s core, emitting a dark aura.

“How do you like that?” Jaehyun growls, his thrusts steady and fierce.

“Fuck. Yes.” Jaehyun shifts his hips, then: a gasp, and a high-pitched moan. “Oh fuck, oh my fucking god right there. Right there. Don’t stop. Please.”

Jaehyun maintains the angle and thrusts with dead accuracy against Taeyong’s prostate before bottoming out somewhere further. Underneath, Taeyong arches his back as his legs twitch on either side of his ears. Jaehyun groans into the crook of Taeyong’s neck and shoulder, teeth grazing the skin as he reins back his impending orgasm. But Taeyong knows this and seemingly pours all of the pleasure he feels into the bond.

It’s the last straw.

Jaehyun feels the burst of orgasm rip through him, almost as intensely as his own orgasm, and thrusts in time with Taeyong’s pulsing and squeezing insides. Splatters of cum form on the dip of Taeyong’s belly as Jaehyun plants his cum as far up as he can reach. Taeyong pulls Jaehyun tightly against him as he feels the heat explode at his innermost place, his entire body overwrought with nerves that it shivers and twitches from his core out.

An eternity later, Taeyong blinks back tears and wiggles his hips softly, frowning. Jaehyun’s erection twitches. “Are you still cumming inside me?”

Jaehyun deigns to reply, but empties the last of his cum inside with a few more shallow, half-hearted pumps.

Taeyong hisses and whimpers, grabbing Jaehyun’s arm and squeezing in warning. “Still,” a breath, “sensitive.”

Jaehyun grunts softly, but stops moving as he and Taeyong catch their breaths and bearings. He slowly releases the tension in his arms, legs and core, sagging into Taeyong’s warm and pliant body, then rolling to a side. Taeyong chases after him, nosing against his cheek and biting his ear, before angling his face into soft butterfly kisses. Jaehyun hums contentedly and closes his eyes, relishing in the afterglow.

Their bond feels the lightest it’s ever been. It’s not the sense of emptiness in the three years that they’ve been away from each other for, nor is it the constant fight for dominance when they were in the jungle. There is a new kind of calmness, almost like the silence that settles after a long, loud storm. But it’s more than that. It’s a sense of fulfillment, completion that is strong and unshaking.

Taeyong clings to the taper of Jaehyun’s waist before he falls asleep completely, like he’s afraid Jaehyun will disappear again. Jaehyun feels the warm press of an arm and a leg from his side, and turns slightly to face Taeyong.

“Rest. I’ll be here.”

Jaehyun’s eyes are soft and earnest, and Taeyong wants nothing more than to fall into them, into the low velvet voice. He smiles, snuggling deeper in Jaehyun’s arms, and closes his eyes as well.

When Taeyong wakes up he finds himself alone. Their bond inside hums with golden certainty that tells him that Jaehyun is nearby. It literally warms him from the inside out. He slowly makes his way to the living room, which is just a fancier term for the tallest foyer Taeyong has ever seen in any apartment. He still can't believe a place like this exists. But his gaze returns to the same spot on the dark marble flooring, replaying one of the most life-changing conversations he's had, then gets carried away remembering other things, and he promptly trips on his own foot.

Jaehyun watches him fall down from the sofa in the living room, expression neutral, but Taeyong feels the suppressed laughter and decides he’ll work to make Jaehyun show more of himself, if only to see the dimpled smile.

“That wasn’t a very fairytale moment. You should’ve been there to catch me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Taeyong sticks his tongue out, then joins Jaehyun on the sofa. He looks at the length, deciding where to sit, until Jaehyun pats at the spot beside him. They stare at each other for a moment, before Taeyong steadily climbs on Jaehyun’s lap.

“You may need glasses.” One possessive arm curls around Taeyong’s middle, pulling him closer to Jaehyun’s body. Taeyong’s shoulder comes into focus, and Jaehyun frowns at the bandages again. But before he can speak, Taeyong slips from his lap to beside him, their thighs touching.

“What’s with that look?”

“Your shoulder.”

“Hm?”

“I consulted the doctor earlier today. He said it requires at least another week to heal before you can go anywhere. By then, the Hong Kong Police Department will likely be wondering about your whereabouts. Yes, I had Renjun hack into your file and figured you’re still employed but taking an indefinite leave. A bullet wound is… hard to conceal. You might never get back to how you were.”

Taeyong stays silent, but his hand curls into loose fists, telling Jaehyun all he needs to know.

“I could find a rehab program for you.”

“I might not even be wanted for work, if the truth comes out.”

“...yes. That’s another thing to consider, if.” _If you want to have this_ , Jaehyun wants to say, but Taeyong understands what he means anyway. He furrows his brows, before moving off of Jaehyun, but no more than an arm’s distance.

“I’m already keeping my, well, inclination a secret. This can go on that list. But I won’t regret what I’ve done. I just. I need more time to figure what it means for me, for work.”

Jaehyun regards him for a long moment, before nodding. “Take all the time you need.”

They drift into a thoughtful silence. Then Taeyong says, “So, you live between New York and Seoul.”

Jaehyun nods. “More New York than Seoul, if I can help it. Operations here need a closer eye, whereas,” he trails, a crooked smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There isn’t much for me in Seoul these days.”

Taeyong chews his bottom lip. “I don’t know what I’d be doing if I wasn’t a policeman. It feels ingrained into my identity at this point. I wouldn’t know what to do if I wasn’t doing something physical, something that required working with people, resolving issues, busting drug rings, and the occasional rounding up triad members.”

The last one makes Jaehyun dimple. Taeyong nearly swoons. “What do you want to do then?”

“H-huh?”

“Whatever’s on your bucket list, or whatever you want to do or achieve, dreams or goals, like what _77_ was to me.”

Taeyong contemplates for a long time, unable to answer. Jaehyun gets tired of waiting and begins to play with Taeyong’s hands in his, running long fingers up and down Taeyong’s palm before curling his hands around Taeyong’s wrist, back of his palm, then interlacing their fingers.

“It’s not something I can make up my mind right now.”

Jaehyun nods in understanding. “What about your friends? Do they know you’re here?”

“Oh, shit.”

Taeyong makes a quick call to reassure Yuta, who he knows will tell everyone else, that he was shot (“Why the hell would you start with that piece of information do you want me to die by the hands of your friends?” “You said you could take them on three years ago!” “Yeah and guess what I did, holding back instead of hurting them because they were your friends!” “W-well I didn’t know that! Plus, Yuta won’t do something as unreasonable as _kill_ you! Maybe just, um, rough you up or something” Meanwhile in the receiver, listening to this conversation is Yuta, who mutters under his breath, “I’m going to kill this Jaehyun guy.”), that he is healing okay, and that he will probably take longer to come home.

Yuta makes many threats at Jaehyun’s life that Taeyong doesn’t share with Jaehyun, because they’re frankly kind of scary coming from the static-filled phone receiver. Taeyong then promises to keep Yuta updated with emails, and reassures that he can take care of himself and that he’ll be okay.

The conversation goes on for half an hour, by which towards the end Taeyong is sniffling from Yuta’s outpour of love, concern and support, and Jaehyun’s left to give him some privacy. Yuta's never shied away from vocalizing his deep, loyal affection for his friends.

After Taeyong hangs up, he looks for Jaehyun, only to find the other man in his study. It stands out from the rest of the apartment with a deep, warm wooden interior that gives a welcoming vibe. Taeyong takes one look at Jaehyun’s figure at the desk, before gazing around the rest of the room. There are small green plants that liven the environment, and soft music plays in the background.

“Who are they?”

Jaehyun doesn’t look up from his paperwork. Taeyong presumes it must be really important. “The Isley Brothers. I trust you called off the hit on my head?”

Taeyong shrugs with one shoulder. “I told him he had one chance to do his worst. What genre of music is this?”

“...soul. It was the last thing playing on my LP player,” Jaehyun replies with a pained expression, closing the folder before tucking it away. Taeyong finds himself staring at Jaehyun’s hands; economical, precise, aristocratic. He snaps out of his reverie in time to catch Jaehyun’s words. “And one chance? Aren’t you being a bit generous?” 

Taeyong flashes a playful grin. “You can probably handle him. Doyoung and Johnny, however. If they fight in tandem, you probably won’t stand a chance.”

“Remind me to never meet your friends,” replies Jaehyun wryly. He stands to his feet. “Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee, thanks.”

Jaehyun nods, grinding some beans and heating the water. He takes out the milk and sugar, gesturing Taeyong to help himself. Meanwhile, he sips his black coffee. Taeyong wrinkles his nose, and Jaehyun calls him a man with childish tastes.

“I don’t need to be an infant to prefer things that taste good!”

“You’ve never had good coffee, then,”

Taeyong thinks back to the crappy instant coffee in his police department and promptly shuts up. When he takes a sip of the freshly brewed coffee Jaehyun sets in front of him, it takes every cell in his body to not swoon or gasp at the complexities. Jaehyun bites back a poorly concealed grin, sending Taeyong’s heart into a jittery mess. He convinces himself it’s the sudden surge of caffeine.

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

“One of the perks of being a boss is that you can work from anywhere.”

“Which really just means you don’t have any time off. And you always look so tense.” Taeyong points out the dark circles under Jaehyun’s eyes. Jaehyun swats his hand away. “Do you ever relax?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Stop this macho act. Take a rest.”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

“Not resting is a sure way to get you dead.”

“Are you mothering me?”

“Your social skills are sorely lacking if you think this is mothering. Have you never had friends who worried for your wellbeing?”

“You don’t make friends with dangerous people. And is this what we are? Friends?”

Taeyong stammers into a momentary silence. Jaehyun watches quietly from the rim of his mug as he takes another sip. Eventually Taeyong finds his tongue and bites out, “That’s not what I meant.”

Jaehyun nods, having expected as much. “I’ve had some time to think about this, but I don’t have an answer. I’m not sure how we will work out, if we work out. Even if, even if our hearts are in, the details are...” His hands wave in a vague gesture. “I won’t make these decisions without you, your input.”

Redness rushes to Taeyong’s cheeks and judging by how low Jaehyun’s head is dipped, and how the tips of his ears have turned pink, he feels a similar way. Taeyong gathers his courage, meeting Jaehyun in the middle.

“It won’t be easy to maintain. It might not even work out in the long run. But I’ll be damned if I don’t give it my best shot.”

A teasing curve lifts the corners of Jaehyun’s mouth. “Aw, you really have fallen for the bad boy.”

The ensuing fight ends in five seconds flat, with Jaehyun pinning a flailing, sputtering, loudly protesting Taeyong on the carpeted floor.

“My shoulder, my shoulder!”

Jaehyun slowly, gently flips their position, tugging Taeyong down while slotting their hips together. “Take some acting classes before crying wolf, darling.” He says, then nudges up to capture Taeyong’s lips in a kiss.

They end up making out on the floor for a long, long time.


	25. 24

They spend the following week in bed, and sometimes on the sofa, kitchen counter, the jacuzzi in the bathroom, and Taeyong's favourite, the dining table because he can spread Jaehyun out and eat him like a full course meal. When Jaehyun asks if he's done, Taeyong will let his shoulders droop, the bottom of his lips rolling outward in a small but effective pout, and Jaehyun will roll his eyes but lets himself get drawn back into Taeyong's arms.

In Taeyong's defense, it has been over three years of waiting; there's a lot of catching up to do.

When they've finally fucked it out, feeling soft and exhausted and refreshed and their bond humming in low delight, they settle in the expansive living room that feels more cozy than daunting when Taeyong first arrived. He rolls on the sofa (it's big enough for tumbling, rough play, and cartwheels) and stretches his body to the tip of his toes, before bundling up in a soft cotton blanket. Jaehyun stares at him with a funny look, and he raises an eyebrow.

"What? Never seen anyone get comfy before?"

"Not often, no."

"That's because you have a permanent scowl etched on your face. Try smiling more."

Jaehyun smiles. Taeyong's heart promptly stops.

“Nevermind. Don’t do that. It’s scary.”

Jaehyun spends the rest of the day smiling at himself in the mirror, wondering if there’s something wrong with his face. Taeyong says nothing, but bites back a wide grin that threatens to split his face when he catches Jaehyun scrutinizing his reflection.

Taeyong’s arm is still in a sling, but its healing is going smoothly. With limited mobility and possible dangers in the outside world, he stays indoors and contemplates his future.

It’s exactly what Jaehyun said. If anyone finds out his relation to Jaehyun he’ll be in hot water. He doesn’t want that, and he definitely doesn’t want to complicate things with Jaehyun anymore, especially after everything they’ve gone through. The wisest decision is to consider a life outside of law enforcement. Downplay the suspicion, stay out of scrutiny.

This is where his thoughts come to a halt. What could he do?

Overwhelmed, he shares his thoughts with Jaehyun.

With a pained expression, Jaehyun says, “You could work for me.”

Taeyong makes an equally pained face. “That plays into stupid power dynamics that would make me cringe halfway to hell. I can’t believe you actually said that.”

“I was offering just to be civil. Glad we’re on the same page.” Taeyong levels Jaehyun with a look, who stares back just as blankly. “What?”

“Civil? You were threatening my life this morning.”

Jaehyun shrugs. “This morning was  _ forever  _ ago.” Taeyong narrows his eyes. A slow smile creeps across Jaehyun’s face. “Guess what else has been forever?”

“Mind. Out of gutter. Now.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Neither are you. I’m talking about work prospects, while all you do is work. Don’t you know that all work and no play makes Jaehyun a dull, dull boy?”

“I have more hair than Jack,” mumbles Jaehyun, incensed. “Also, that story was terrifying.”

Taeyong makes a mock-surprised face. “Let it be recorded in history that the great ex-faction leader Jung Jaehyun is afraid of Stephen King!”

“Stephen King is a successful writer specifically for his compelling storytelling. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Taeyong grins. “True. It’s not like I can stomach horror films either.”

That earns a raised eyebrow from Jaehyun. “With what you see on the regular? One would think you’d be desensitized to the horrors of mankind.”

“Exactly. Humans I can predict. Supernatural I can’t.”

Jaehyun blinks in surprise. “Supernatural isn’t real,” he says in a slow voice, like explaining to a child.

“That’s what they want you to think,” whispers Taeyong, conspiratorial.

“Horror films aren’t always about the supernaturals either,” continues Jaehyun.

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Well aware. Humans can be far scarier than the supernatural. But that doesn’t mean that supernatural beings don’t exist. Now stop talking about it! It’s giving me the creeps.”

Jaehyun tch’s, mumbling under his breath about cowardly policemen, which Taeyong’s pride can’t actually let go so he jumps on Jaehyun, swinging his uninjured fist. Jaehyun catches it easily, flipping Taeyong over before (gently) twisting his arm behind his back. Taeyong grunts and wiggles to break free.

“The more you struggle the tighter the hold,” Jaehyun growls. He demonstrates by pushing Taeyong’s twisted arm up by an increment. Taeyong thrashes under him.

“When my arm heals I’m going to fight you full power!”

“Love to see it.”

“Just you wait!”

“Hm.”

Jaehyun eventually lets go, but not before he flips Taeyong around to press a searing kiss that lasts long, delightful minutes. Taeyong slowly pulls back and stares with glassy eyes, pink cheeks and wet lips, breathless, itching to fight, and horny as all hell. It takes Jaehyun a second to notice where Taeyong’s thoughts are heading, and another minute before they shed their clothes and carry onto another round of fucking because like Jaehyun said, it has been  _ forever _ .

Taeyong makes up his mind. He calls the airline company and books a one-way ticket to Hong Kong. Next, he finds Jaehyun in the bathroom and tells him the news. Jaehyun, having just taken a shower, looks every bit handsome and delectable as ever. Taeyong takes a minute to calm his boner while Jaehyun dries his hair with a towel.

“I can’t just disappear like you do.”

Jaehyun nods slowly, having expected this. Even if he’s turned a new leaf, Taeyong has no reason to. Their relationship cannot be recognized, even without the titles of ‘faction leader, mass murderer, drug and arms trader’ and ‘policeman’ added to the mix.

“I’d never ask you to leave whatever is most important to you,” he says, the words leaving his mouth like dragging his tongue through crushed glass. “It’s better this way. Play it off like you were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Crossfires are common, and you’re a tourist, you wouldn’t know better.”

Taeyong shakes his head. “Stop making excuses for me. I need to make sure I can keep as many people safe as possible before I move.”

“Move?” Jaehyun repeats cautiously.

“Yeah.”

“Not New York, I hope.”

Taeyong smiles wryly, shrugging. “Seoul, actually. I’ve always wanted to travel, but never had the opportunity. My savings should tide me over for a year. Plus, Jeju-do is a flight away from Incheon. I can visit one of your many homes, maybe do a bit of house-keeping, live rent-free.”

Jaehyun scoffs. “I recalled you giving me shit for buying property with blood money. Now you’re staking claim to them?”

Taeyong shrugs, smiling charmingly. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“You better not be this fickle about partners too.”

Taeyong turns bright red. “A-anyway. I didn’t hear an answer. Is that a yes?”

Jaehyun shrugs. “If you’re serious, I have a place in Seoul as well. It should go without saying that you’re free to stay in my other homes. I’ll arrange for keys and access codes to be sent to you.”

Taeyong blinks. “Just like that?”

“Be discreet. No guests. If you set anything on fire or blow anything up, I’ll crack your ribs one by one.” Jaehyun’s voice drops to a rumble warning. Coupled with his state of undress, the situation sends a shiver down Taeyong’s spine.

“I’ve booked the ticket.” Taeyong swallows, shaking off the lust. “I’ll be out of your hair in two days.”

Jaehyun nods slowly. “Anything I can help with?”

“A ride to the airport, I guess.” Taeyong squeezes Jaehyun’s shoulder, thinks for a moment, then wraps his arms around Jaehyun’s waist. “Are you pouting?”

Jaehyun will vehemently deny any and all claims of pouting, but for now, he settles with looking away. “I’m allowed to sulk.”

Taeyong smiles. “I’ll write.”

“An email is probably less traceable.”

“Email it is,” Taeyong promises, cupping Jaehyun’s cheek. Jaehyun leans into his palm, turning his head to press his lips against the skin, rough from years of training.

“Then what?”

“I’ll update you.”

“What if I want to see you?”

“You’ll have to go through Hong Kong’s customs with that handsome face of yours and risk incarceration from at least ten different countries.”

Jaehyun sighs dramatically. “Everyone wants me.”

“Yeah, that’s a thing you’ll have to think about the next time you commit crime.”

Jaehyun blinks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just a regular businessman.”

Taeyong snorts. “A regular businessman that everyone wants.”

“What can I say? Competence is in high demand.” Jaehyun draws a finger from his belly button up. Taeyong scoffs, but his eyes follow Jaehyun’s hand all the same. Eventually Taeyong’s hand covers Jaehyun’s briefly, before pressing his palm against the skin. He moves his hand slowly, feeling the rise and dip of heated skin like he’s sculpting Jaehyun, memorizing everything by touch.

“Competence is overrated.”

“Oh? Then why do you look like you want to eat me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Everything’s easier when you’re honest with yourself.”

“Ugh. You’re incorrigible.”

“Your big words won’t deter me.” Taeyong rolls his eyes as Jaehyun’s smirk widens to a grin. “C’mon, cuddle with me.”

“Cuddling? In the tub?”

Jaehyun pulls Taeyong between the V of his legs before placing his hands on his desk on either side of Taeyong, trapping him against the sink counter. He nuzzles his nose against Taeyong’s neck. “Mm, you smell like me.”

Taeyong can’t help himself. He cards a hand through Jaehyun’s wet locks before resting his palm on Jaehyun’s neck. “Didn’t expect you to be the clingy type.”

“I’m allowed this.” Jaehyun cracks an eye open, soft and vulnerable.

“Hm,” Taeyong hums, grinning softly. “No funny business while I’m gone.”

“Guess I’ll have to shelf my comedy open mic dive bar plan,” grumbles Jaehyun against the soft of Taeyong’s skin. Taeyong laughs. “Huh.”

“Tickles,” whines Taeyong, wiggling out of Jaehyun’s grasp as Jaehyun protests, “But I want to keep hugging you.” So Jaehyun pulls Taeyong even closer and wraps his arms and legs around the slighter man like a koala bear. He then buries his face into Taeyong’s soft belly and blows raspberries. Taeyong screeches, jumping three feet in the air.

Jaehyun grumbles at the packed duffle bag he’s lent Taeyong to keep whatever belongings he’s brought with him, and some Taeyong’s coerced from his wardrobe. (‘It smells like you,’ explains Taeyong, bashful. Jaehyun stares at the sweater in Taeyong’s hand before digging through his closet. He throws in two more sweaters. ‘Don’t catch a cold,’ he says gruffly.)

It isn’t until the very last minute, and a rather anxious Taeyong ushering him, that Jaehyun leaves his apartment. He thought he’d be able to drag it on a bit longer with delicious distractions… alas. Taeyong glares at him the entire way down the elevator.

“Don’t worry, you won’t miss your flight.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I flew in and out of this city at all times of the day in the last three years. I know my way around.” Jaehyun shrugs. “After you check in, go directly to the gates. Be alert.”

Taeyong hums softly. His injured shoulder twitches. “If they know who I am they can find me in Hong Kong.”

“They would only target you if you were convenient. Once you’re out of the country there’s less incentive for them to find you. It’s easier to, for example, blow my store fronts up instead.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, Renjun got a new car,” says Jaehyun, nodding at the parking lot. Taeyong perks up, imagining something fast, sleek, and red. When they arrive at the parking spot, Taeyong’s grin falls. It’s a brand new black van. It’s wide, dull hood glistens under the fluorescent light.

Taeyong is unimpressed. Jaehyun flicks his arm.

“If you’re not happy with the choice of transportation you can walk to the airport.”

It’s over three hours of walking. Taeyong shuts up quickly and climbs into the car as Jaehyun slides in the driver seat. After a moment of silence, Jaehyun turns on the radio and a familiar tune rustles on.

_ Come on _ __  
_ Let's, woo (let's stay together) let's stay together _ _  
_ __ Loving you whether, whether times are good or bad

Taeyong looks out the window, taking in the sights of the land he’s barely gotten to explore. He notes the neon lights, the graffiti, the red and brown bricks, the glass skyscrapers. In a way, Manhattan is a lot like Hong Kong.

His heart pitter-patters in his chest.

Home. Away from Jaehyun. Must these terms be mutually exclusive?

They weave past Manhattan’s afternoon traffic, zooming across Brooklyn before pulling into John F. Kennedy International Airport. A plane flies above them, the noise ripping into their eardrums. Darkness surrounds them as Jaehyun looks for a spot by the drop off area.

Taeyong looks down at his hands on his lap. “Gonna miss me?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“...”

“You’re so bad at this. Stop sulking and send me off properly.”

Jaehyun sighs after a pause. He pulls into an empty spot and turns off the car. “Fine. I’ll need to know you’re safe and sound when you get back. You don’t need to send me an email or call me, but if you don’t check into the police dorms within three hours of arrival I will have someone look for you.”

Taeyong turns red at the protectiveness in Jaehyun’s words, then something registers. “How would you know when I get home.” He blinks owlishly. “You have an informant in the Hong Kong Police department!?”

“...”

Taeyong narrows his eyes. “You’re not gonna randomly appear in my apartment, right?”

“Only if you give me reason to.”

“Aren’t I reason enough?”

Jaehyun’s eyes bore into Taeyong’s, revealing an unexpected softness. Taeyong looks away first.

“It somehow feels like you’ve already gone, when you’re still in front of me,” admits Jaehyun in a stuffy voice. “If something were to happen to you and I’m not there, I don’t know what I’d do. All I can hope for is that you’ll be strong enough to fight, survive.”

“Jae…”

“I will miss you. And of course you’re enough for me to visit. I would go to wherever you are if I could, but that’s not safe.” Taeyong makes a motion to say something, but Jaehyun continues, “I won’t take the life you’ve built away from you. I just want to spend more time with you. If it means a vacation to Jeju-do or sightseeing in New York, so be it.”

“I still don’t know what I’ll be doing,” says Taeyong, smiling crookedly. “I might come crawling back before you know it, jobless and homeless.”

Their gazes hold for a brief moment before Jaehyun pulls Taeyong close to crush their lips together. Taeyong’s fingers find purchase in the dip of Jaehyun’s jaw as their bond hums with unsung longing. It becomes too heated and Jaehyun rips Taeyong’s safety belt off just as Taeyong swings over to straddle Jaehyun. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much,” whispers Jaehyun against Taeyong’s lips.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Taeyong grinds down as Jaehyun presses up, making Taeyong hiss. “Yong. It’s less than an hour to boarding.”

“I know. I just.” A kiss. “God. Leaving you is really difficult.”

“That’s not difficult. I’m the one watching you go as I stay here, like I’m letting go an important piece of myself.”

Taeyong pulls back, scrunching his nose. “That was disgusting.”

Jaehyun hums. “Your dick disagrees.”

“My dick, as you know, has a head of its own.”

“Ah, that I know all too well. Your heart also disagrees, if the impressions I’m getting are anything to go by.” Taeyong sputters as Jaehyun holds him down by his hips. “Promise me to take care of yourself. Be safe.”

“I promise,” Taeyong whispers, voice thick with emotions. “I should say the same for you, Mr. Everyone wants me.”

Jaehyun brushes a thumb against Taeyong’s bottom lip, just above the small beauty spot, and reaches up for one more kiss. “Alright. Get going. Wouldn’t do to hold up the entire plane.”

“Says the person who isn’t letting go,” whispers Taeyong, shifting his hips under Jaehyun’s grip to demonstrate. This time Taeyong leans in first, wrapping his arms around Jaehyun’s shoulders and mouthing the soft spot just under Jaehyun’s ear, who shivers, groaning lowly.

“People are probably watching.”

“Let them. It’d be their last time seeing two really hot men making out in the car.”

Taeyong chuckles into the collar of Jaehyun’s shirt, his hands curling against the wiry muscles around Jaehyun’s shoulder. Jaehyun tightens his hold.

“You’ll have to run, Yong.”

“Shouldn’t have taken your sweet time just now. You always delay the important things.”

It earns Taeyong a slap on his tush. Beneath, Jaehyun’s eyes glitter with memory and mischief. “Didn’t think you’d remember.”

“The alcove was pretty. I don’t think I thanked you for that.”

“You’re right, ungrateful twerp. Where is my thanks?”

Taeyong’s eyes trail down to Jaehyun’s finger tapping his lips. He grins wryly, heart swelling in his chest. “Guess you’ll have to wait for that one because I really gotta go.”

“Yong.”

Taeyong’s breath hitches as he watches the flicker of Jaehyun’s gold eyes swirl into something darker and possessive. They share one last kiss before Jaehyun reaches up to press Taeyong’s forehead against his, whispering that he'll find a way to Taeyong, that Taeyong will always have him. Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in soft white flowers and smoky leather, and whispers back just as fiercely that if he takes too long Taeyong will find him because Jaehyun belongs with him, there is no other...

Seconds later, Taeyong bursts from the ugly van with Jaehyun’s duffle swinging around his shoulders, passport and ticket in his hand.  With strong emotions wrecking havoc inside him, Jaehyun watches his silhouette get smaller and smaller until it disappears from the swishing doors, and then he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap! I wanna give a shout out to j for being my sounding board from the very beginning, ephe for all the feedback and comments, and everyone for following this story to its end. I really appreciate all comments, kudos and support (*´꒳`*) Take care, stay safe, and thank you!


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